I'll Be Back - Beatles (John Lennon, George Harrison)
by yellowsnowmobile
Summary: In 1957, a young girl from Bristol goes missing. She's run away for a better life, in the bustling city of Liverpool. Now 15 years old, she meets a young John Lennon, then reunites with a lost family member who she hasn't seen since the tragic death of her parents in 1949. Heather Roxanne Eaton begins her new life of rock and roll, travelling all across the UK.
1. Chapter 1

**FOREWORD  
** Yes, I am aware of how long this chapter is, and that there is no mention of any of the Beatles. I needed to set up the story, so before you stop reading because 'there's no John smut right away' or whatever shit, I'd like to mention that good writing usually does not dive right in the middle of the fucking story without any explanation, thanks. John comes into the first chapter, so be patient or skip this chapter.  
Thank you, and enjoy IBBR.  
-

"I'm much happier, to be honest." Alice reassured me as she sipped her tea. She and Jack had graciously invited me over, even though it wasn't a day I regularly visit, since I had telephoned Alice about wanting to leave Bristol. Grandmother Heather was nowhere near pleasant, and I was tired of being reminded every day of my Mum and Dad. "But I think you should stay in the city." I stared at my feet, torn between the two as I ran my finger over the slip in my pocket.

"I want to go somewhere else. Somewhere where nobody would know about what's happened. Because it seems like everyone in Bristol knows our parents are dead."

Alice winced. "Don't say it like that, please." I stopped, my face growing hot.

"I'm sorry. It's just-"

She held up her hand to quiet me. "You're still in secondary. Why don't you wait until after you're finished to leave?"

I stood up, offended. Why is she trying to make me stay when I obviously want to leave? I had already bought tickets to Liverpool with my art money. "Alice, Grandmother and I aren't for each other. We barely talk, we occasionally cross paths and that's it. The odd time she does speak to me, it's her scolding me over some other bloody stupid thing only _she_ cares about!"

"Sit _down_ , Heather!" Alice shouted crossly, placing her tea down. I obliged begrudgingly as Jack walked in, smiling. I didn't mind him too much. We always had nice conversations. I was glad my sister didn't have a bloke for a boyfriend. His expression sort of dropped when he adjusted to the mood wafting around the room. "Talk to me calmly now. Where'd you get this idea from, and where are you planning on going?"

I took a deep breath. "I've been feeling more and more out of place around town. I can't keep doing this." I pulled the train ticket out of my pocket and showed it to Alice. "Mum and Dad always talked about living here. You were born there. I want to see it for myself."

Alice gasped, placing a hand on her chest. I caught Jack quietly slipping back out of the room. That was another reason I liked him. He reacted to situations well and didn't need to announce it to everyone. As I did that, Alice had recollected herself. "Look, Liverpool is full of dirty sailors with no manners. They're not real British. They've no honour, dignity.. Just stay here in Bristol. At least for a few more years. All of Merseyside is so dirty.. Sleazy. Mum and Dad wouldn't want you living there, that's exactly why we moved." She reached out her hand to me, meanwhile, my mind was swirling with cusses and insults I dare not say, especially to my dear own sister, as ignorant as she was being. "How about we go to the train station tomorrow, when I'm off work, and return this?" That had done it, something in me snapped. I stood up, looked her straight in the eye icily, and told her.

"The train leaves Friday morning. Don't tell anyone else." Now, thinking about this in later years I've seen how immature I was acting, but at the time I didn't care. I was a kid, I was foolish. We all make mistakes, but thankfully, this mistake turned out for the better.

As I walked out the front door, my face was etched into a deep grimace. Immediately I had regretted talking to my sister in such a way. Mum would've- no, I'd rather not think of her.

I continued down the street to the closest bus stop, keeping a tight grip on my train ticket. I had a few days to pack, and that was it. I secretly hoped Alice would come to say goodbye to me, but nobody else. I wasn't a fan of many of the people in our area. For example, Stacey. We had been relatively good mates, until I had figured she was speaking rubbish behind my back. Or Janice, who apparently was only my friend because her mother had made her, in a sort of pity attempt when I lost my parents.

I glanced back at the house, as best of a view as I could get as the bus rolled up. I finally stepped on and paid the toll before slipping into a seat before Alice could see where I had went.

I don't know why I felt the need to be so secretive around her all of the sudden. I can trust her. I know I can. Maybe a little bit of me doesn't want to leave, either. No, that's a lie. Quite a bit of me doesn't want to leave, but the rest knows I have to.

I figure most people in the same situation as I would make a big show of 'how they were leaving the city' and expect everyone to miss them, possibly throw some huge farewell party, then whisper about them not even a day after they were gone. I was planning to simply disappear, so everyone could forget easier. So we ended on pleasant notes. Somewhat. I just wanted to say goodbye to Alice. She was one of the few people who shared my experience, and the only one that I could talk to about anything. We had been thick as thieves after the accident, watching out for each other even though there was three years between us.

I smiled a little to myself as the bus jostled. I do get nervous when riding any sort of automobile. It's sort of a reflex nowadays, but it doesn't exactly cripple me from ever using one ever again. I usually tried to bury the feeling, but every once in awhile the pot of that paranoia boiled over. And once it started, took a long time to stop. I shook my head a little to clear out the negative thoughts and hopped off the bus. Thankfully, it was right beside the stop and I didn't have to walk very far.

I unlocked the door and took off my shoes before looking into the kitchen. Grandmum was in there. She looked up and we held eye contact for a few moments before I started to head upstairs. "Tut," Grandmother snapped. "Shoes." I stared down at my feet then begrudgingly took them off, leaving them by the door before climbing the stairs.

I hate it. I hate it so much. I can't have normal conversations with anyone, let alone keep a stable relationship. In a blind sort of rage, I continued to drag out any sort of bag I had. Knapsacks, suitcases, duffels, the like. After emptying almost all my drawers into a suitcase I pulled open the bottom one and dug a book out of the bottom. 'Family Photos' was loosely scribbled on the cover, like it was rushed at last second. I didn't care. It was what was inside that counted. I dare not look through it now- I only saved it for times that I'd need it. Slipping the book away in a bag, I continued packing mindlessly. Only two more days.

I decided to make a little chart that I taped to the wall, like a calendar. Drawing a big X over today's date, I capped the marker and left it nearby before turning to look at myself in my mirror.

I had somewhat fair features, my eyes were large and eyebrows arched ever so slightly. I did have thinner lips than Alice, though. She had the same eyes as Mum, that icy blue. I was quite envious of her- I had auburn hair that always fell over my eye no matter how many pins or how much hairspray I used. I thought my eye colour was disgusting, though. They were green, but had freckles of other colours and shades within them. It looked like a badly tended to garden. We hadn't known where I got the hair and eyes from, Dad had dark brown hair and deep chocolate eyes.

I scrunched up my nose at myself and turned away, throwing my knapsack onto my bed and meticulously placing things inside so I maximized the space.

I didn't care that Liverpool wasn't proper. It was the only place I could possibly belong. Bristol was too stuck up. Everyone felt they needed to be perfect, so in shape, so regular compared to the other. No contrasts. We were all the same. It grew boring, almost.

Grandmother wasn't very supportive of my art. She would always say, when she would speak to me, that art is a 'putz's career' and only stupid people go into art. That's Bristol idealism, I suppose.

By the time Friday rolled around, I had been scolded severely by Grandmother about nearly everything, loud noises, phone calls, a few more shoe _'infractions'_ , and had even scolded me for my hair being over my eye, saying it looked trampy. It's not my fault, I can't fix it. I could see fine either way. She also scolded me for not practicing my violin. I didn't care, I had a few classical music records and my own player upstairs. See if she could tell the difference. I hadn't opened that case in a year or so, I could probably still play fine, and I had decided to take it with me to Liverpool anyway.

I figured it'd be best to throw the non fragile bags out the window and retrieve them once outside, since Grandmum was always hanging around the parlour downstairs by about 5 in the morning, and she would find it suspicious that I kept lugging bags back and forth, especially so early in the day. I carried a knapsack and my violin case out. Grandmum didn't ask any questions. She didn't even point out with a snarky tone that I was wearing the trousers that I had spilt bleach on, let alone wearing trousers at all. Maybe she wanted me to leave.

I stepped outside to see a car waiting for me. My stomach dropped for a moment before I noticed it was Jack in the driver's seat and Alice beside him. He beckoned me over and rolled the window down. "We'll drive you to the train station, don't want you having to lug the whole lot yourself." I smiled weakly and placed down my violin and knapsack, returning to the backyard to retrieve the rest of my bags. Alice had followed me there, heaving one of the duffels that I had stuffed full.

"Why are you doing this?" I asked in between breaths.

She grinned at me. "Because Jack didn't want to, apparently your fragile luggage needed his tender care on its trip to the car."

A smile crept on my lips. "Yes, but seriously."

"Well, why have you bus or walk to the station, lugging all these bags yourself, when the least Jack and I can do is help your last time in Bristol be somewhat pleasant." She stopped as she placed the bag down for him to pack in the car, as did I. "Did you tell Grandmum?"

I scoffed, appalled. " _Of course not_!"

"We'd best hurry then."

"So you're okay with me doing this?" I asked, grabbing the last bag and following her back.

Alice snickered. "Even if I wasn't, I wouldn't be able to stop you. I just hope you come back to Bristol.

Staring at her, I knew she was genuine. "Yeah," I murmured, untruthfully, for that matter, "Me too." Alice gave me a sideways grin. I don't know why I lied to her. It seems like that's just what I do now.

Everything had been packed into the car, and we had arrived to Temple Mead safely, and on time. I had the half hour to kill. The first ten was spent lugging all my bags onto the train. The next ten was checking and double-checking. Then, the last five were goodbyes.

Jack stood beside Alice as she wiped her eyes with a handkerchief that she had produced from her pocket. "So, where are you planning on staying?" She asked as I stood in front of my train car.

"I'm sure I'll find a place." I assured her. I was quite convinced I was. Plenty of people living alone are always thankful for an extra hand around the house.

"You don't have anywhere in mind." She pressed her lips together, clutching the frilly handkerchief. "Oh, Heather." Alice sighed. "Do you have enough money?"

I nodded cautiously, keeping and eye on the clock. "Enough clothes?" She continued. "We'll still be here in Bristol, you know. If you don't like it there you can always come back." I stifled a scoff. I'd like anything better than Bristol.

"I think I should be getting on the train," I murmured, glancing back at Alice. She gasped, more tears streaming out of her eyes. "Oh, God, Alice. Please don't cry. I'll call." Jack gazed at me worriedly. Alice usually did the talking for him. It just happened that way, and that's another thing that made them such a nice pair.

"Please do," She whimpered, pulling me into a tight hug. "You're all I have of Mum and Dad left." I nodded, burying my face in her shoulder. She was wetting my sweater, though I didn't care too much. Alice pulled away, keeping her hands on my shoulders as she stared at me. "If you ever need us, we'll be here." She turned, obviously not wanting to see me go. I wouldn't, either. Before I boarded, Jack stopped me.

"It's not much, but take this." Jack stopped me, pressing two hundred-pound notes into my hand.

I glanced up at him. "No, really. I'm fine, I've got enough money-" He quieted me with a reassuring smile. I spun around uneasily and boarded the train, now nervous myself, and questioning my choices as my stomach swirled with indecision. I'd never been to Liverpool, I only had one large map and a few residential ones. I glanced back behind me as I climbed the last few steps. Jack was staring at me as Alice sobbed into his shoulder. My face dropped and I tried to look away as I sat down in my seat. It would seem as if only the train car separated us, but I had just built a layer of mistrust and betrayal between us, that would probably take years to bring back our relationship as it was before.

Alice turned solemnly as the train slowly began moving after quite some minutes. Her hand raised in a slow wave as she crawled out of my view. I wanted to jump off the train and go back, but I knew I couldn't now. Temple Meads passed by, and I was leaving my home, Bristol, probably for good.

It was a 4 hour trip to Liverpool from Bristol. One other lady shared my compartment, but she had been keeping to herself in a newspaper for the first half hour, at least. I had been staring out into the passing scenery as it was illuminated by the rising morning sun until I heard the rustling of papers. "That's quite the lot of luggage you've got there," she commented. I could tell she was Scottish, her accent was very heavy.

I glanced at her then at my bags, startled. "Erm, yeah. I'm- I'm moving." I replied, brushing some hair out of my face.

The woman smiled. "Ah, yes. Troubles at home, yeah? I know how you feel. I left my mum's at 16, and I turned out fine." She folded up the newspaper, placing it beside her. "I'm sure you'll be fine too."

"Thank you," I murmured.

"So, how old are you? Y' Seem like a fine young lady to me."

I brushed some hair behind my ear. "Fourteen." I answered. "I turn fifteen in August."

The woman laughed heartily. "They get younger every day! Well, I'm Liz, pleased to meet you." She looked to be in her mid thirties as she shook my hand with a wide smile.

"Heat- Roxanne," I replied, folding my hands back in my lap. I decided to go by my middle name from then on. It would work as a cover, in case the radio decided to broadcast my absence from Bristol.

Liz looked absolutely pleased. "Oh my, that's an American name, correct?"

I nodded as she began to go on a story about how her oldest son moved to New York and how well off he was, and how lazy their middle child was. Although it was interesting, and Liz was extremely friendly, I zoned out a little and looked back out the window, watching the trees go past again.

A little later, a trolley came past, with some tea and biscuits, as well as some other sweets. I bought a small variety of food, using some pocket change. I hadn't eaten all morning, so I was famished. Liz offered me a pastry, all wrapped up in Cellophane, that she had brought from home. I told her I had more than enough already, but still thanked her profusely.

Before I knew it, we had pulled into Liverpool Central, the train screeching to a halt. Liz, who had no luggage besides a purse, helped me with getting my bags off the train, and left me with a tight hug and a wish for good luck. I smiled as I watched her scurry away with who I presumed to be her youngest son. My luggage was all packed onto a cart, and I pushed it off the platform, glancing around. I didn't know where to go beyond here. Arrows pointed to different areas in all directions, making my head spin. Temple Meads was definitely worse, but at least I knew my way around.

A couple teens that looked about my age passed by, down a corridor to the outside, so I decided to follow them, keeping a pretty safe distance between us. Maybe they could lead me to a residential area.

As I walked near the doors, I noticed a large sign prohibiting the passage of carts past that point. A guard stood in front of it, but he was small and lumpy, so I figured I'd take my chances and run, waiting for the boys to gain a little more on me before I sprinted past the guard and his sign, steering the cart down a busy street. Someday, I'd return it.

I caught sight of the teenagers again right before they turned a corner. I followed them for another good twenty minutes of turning and following before one waved to the other and went inside a house, whereas the other kept walking. I glanced over at it, seeing there was an adjoined other side. I decided to first try my luck with that house, since if I went to the boy I followed, he might recognize me.

I rapped on the door, my cart on the walkway, since I didn't feel like dragging it up the front steps.

A woman opened the door after a minute, looking at me. "Yes?" She looked to be at about her early twenties. "Can I help you?"

"Hello, yes." I exhaled sharply. I had thought this story up on the train, I'd be fine. "My name is Roxanne Eaton." It was a popular last name, might as well keep it. "I'm from Maghull, my parents sent me here for a better education, and I'm in need of a place to stay." I motioned at my cart of baggage, and the woman leant to the side to inspect it before looking me up and down.

"How old are you, miss?" She raised an eyebrow.

"Fourteen. Fifteen in August."

The woman was silent for a moment as she thought. "Very well," she began. "But, you must upkeep chores if you wish to stay without paying rent." I had never heard a Scouse accent before, but hers was very thick. She held out a hand. "Charmed, I'm Elaine Porter." I shook it cautiously. "Care for some help with your bags?"

Elaine grabbed a duffel before eyeing my cart. "Wait. Did you steal this from the Central?" She asked me, and I felt my face turn red.

"Yes- well- I had nothing to carry my bags with- and I'm planning on returning it!" I stammered.

Her strictness seemed to dissipate as she threw her head back in a hearty laugh. "No way! That's so funny. Hey, steal me one, next time!" I gave her an uneasy smile as she lugged the duffel. "You know, I've been living alone like this for a few years now, I could really use the extra hands." Dumping it in the mudroom, she went back outside to grab the other bags. While I was struggling a bit with them, she seemed to be carrying them with ease. "Now, I wouldn't do this on the spot, but I've been working more lately, and I don't have time to clean up much, especially when people are coming over." Elaine winked at me. "You up for that? Well, who am I kidding? You have to, now, since your baggage is already inside my home." Laughing, she put her hands on her hips. I liked her. She was pleasant, and slightly reminded me of Alice. My gut twisted a little at the thought of how far away she was from me. I suppose I'd call her this evening. "Well, erm, I do have a guest room. It's furnished, for when my brother used to stay the night from London. He doesn't come anymore, he's a big man, with a big job in Norway now." She said that last part almost bitterly, with a hint of jealousy, and I hoped Alice and I never turned out like that. So far, we hadn't, but this separation might turn for the worse if we didn't stay in touch.

"Thank you for letting me stay here." I murmured, rubbing my forearm.

Elaine grinned. "I know how it feels, second hand, of course. My mother moved here for school too. From Lancashire, actually. Don't know why." She lugged one of my trunks up the stairs.

I watched her, grabbing my knapsack and violin case. "People here are so nice," I gushed. "Nothing like my home."

"How so? Have they all got poles up their asses?" Elaine chortled at her own joke. I smiled, genuinely this time.

"Most of them, yes." My Grandmother was the first to come to mind.

Her house was quaint, but still fitting to her personality. What I had seen of the downstairs was dark wood floors, baby blue wallpaper, and pictures all over the place. I swear I spotted a Buddy Holly poster right beside some family photos. She dressed eccentrically, with bright colours, her hair loose and long, unlike a lot of girls these days. I liked it that way too, but I always had to tie it back when Grandmother was around. One time, she threatened to cut it all off.

Elaine herself was quite pretty, her cheeks were rosy and a little chubby, eyes bright. She had almost childlike features. Her hair was dark brown, almost black, and it bounced on her shoulders as she walked. She had to be only about an inch taller than me. I was already tall for my age, so, she was quite the tower herself. She had a longer midsection than legs, though, where I was mostly legs, thanks to Mum.

Opening a door to the right of the stairwell, Elaine revealed a well sized guest room, with a set of drawers, vanity, closet, bed in the corner with sheets already on it, a desk, and a wonderfully large window. "This is brilliant," I breathed. "Thank you." Grinning sideways at me, Elaine dropped the trunk at the foot of my new bed, and I carefully placed my knapsack and violin onto the lavender sheets before taking in the room. Not unlike the rest of the house, it had dark hardwood flooring. The wallpaper was deep violet with a sparse floral pattern reaching up to the ceiling, and a soft rug of warm greys made itself the centrepiece of the floor. Elaine had already gone back downstairs for my other luggage, so I looked out my window to the street. I checked the sign as I followed the teens, it was Menlove Avenue, apparently. A few cars passed by as I watched. The window had silky white drapes, so I drew them, sitting back on the bed, which was delightfully comfortable. It was amazing how Elaine could afford the lot of this.

I clicked open the trunk, packing some clothing away in a drawer. I was upset I couldn't bring my record player, but it was too big and I probably would've broken it throwing it out the window anyways. I decided the first thing I'd do is start saving up for a new one, as I still had a bulk of records with me. Elaine came back in with the rest of my bags, before sitting down at the chair of the desk. "So? How is it?"

I glanced around the room again. "It's wonderful, I can't thank you enough." I nodded, and a smile grew on her face.

"Well, since you've just moved in, I might as well introduce you to the neighbourhood. We can look around tomorrow, though it is getting late now." I gazed out the window to the setting sun. "Right next door," she began, and lightly knocked the wall farthest from the doorway. "Is Mimi Smith and her nephew, John. I'm telling you, he's a real catch, and you'd better believe it. Say he's got a skiffle band. They did a performance not too long ago, actually." I supposed one of the boys I followed was this John, then.

Elaine leant back, tapping her chin. "Erm, I believe that's all I could tell you without showing you. Mimi and John visit often, and vice versa. I think they were coming over tomorrow, actually, so you can help me out with cleaning then." I loved her accent, to be honest. It just made her seem even more laid back than she was, and showed me Liverpool wasn't half as strict and uptight as Bristol. Which reminded me.

"Um, do you have a telephone I could use? I've got to call my family." Alice was probably impatient by now.

Elaine clasped her hands together. "Of course, of course. There's one downstairs."

I murmured another thank you and scuttled downstairs awkwardly, quickly dialing Alice's number and holding the telephone to my ear as it rang.

"Hello?" Alice's voice echoed into my ear, making me sigh of relief. It was odd, even though I hadn't been here for more than a few hours, it was already strange to hear somebody else without the Scouse accent.

"Alice!" I breathed. "I made it here fine."

I heard a murmur from the other end. "Oh, thank goodness, Heather." She sighed.

"Yeah.. I've decided to start going by my middle name, it'll cover me up better?"

"Roxanne? Why?"

I pinched the bridge of my nose. "I, uh, don't know, I don't want to get deported back to Bristol any time soon."

Alice paused. "Well, wouldn't you want to visit maybe?"

"No."

There was another murmur. I supposed she was talking to Jack.

"Has Grandmum noticed yet?" I asked, trying to change the subject. My stomach hurt a little because I had made Alice upset.

"Yes, actually. She telephoned here not too long ago, thinks you've been murdered. You couldn't have told her, Heath- Roxanne?" Wasn't Alice quick to change her mind. She was telling me to go quickly as I hadn't told our Grandmother yet that I was running away. Not that I was planning to. Just then, Elaine came back downstairs, giving me a friendly little wave.

"Look, I've got to go, I'm sorry. I'll telephone you tomorrow morning." I whispered urgently, turning a bit.

"I love you," Alice muttered.

"I love you too, Alice."

She hung up.


	2. Chapter 2

I wiped the table off, covering it back up with the tablecloth, straightening it as best I could before moving on to the parlour. Elaine was at the store, picking up food for when Mimi Smith and John came over. I, meanwhile, was cleaning up the house, as promised. I swept the floors, cleaned tables and counters, dusted and fluffed, then made both our beds, in the case that Mimi decided to look upstairs. Hopefully, John was pleasant. I didn't really care whether or not he was a _'catch'_ , but I knew Mimi was strict, which, upsettingly, reminded me of Grandmother. It turned out Elaine had a record player in the parlour, and that we had common interests in music, so I had some Chuck Berry on, which Grandmother never let me listen to if she was in the house. It was amazing, the stuff the Americans made.

I emptied out an ashtray just as Elaine returned. "Hello." I greeted her, and she grunted, carrying the bags to the kitchen.

"Had some extra pence," she told me, coming back into the parlour as I turned off the record player. "Got you something. Go on, take a break. The house looks brilliant." She handed me a bottled drink, cool to the touch. I accepted it gladly, thanking her. "You say thank you quite the lot, is that a Maghull thing?"

I shrugged, taking a sip of the drink. It was one of those iced sweet teas, which I found were to die for.

After unpacking the groceries, Elaine had gotten to cooking, whereas I had already finished cleaning the house, so I went back upstairs, sitting on my bed.

She had taken me around the neighbourhood this morning, pointing out even little nooks and crannies, the good shops and the bad ones, the cranky neighbours. Elaine then brought me to a nice little field not too far away from the house, Strawberry Fields, I believe she called it. Elaine told me she'd take me to the downtown, where 'all the real action happened' on Friday evening, seeing as today was Sunday and she wouldn't have any time to take me around the city if she was working.

Thankfully for me, it was still summer break, so I could try looking around Liverpool myself. Hopefully John would be nice enough to show me around. Elaine said he was two years older than me, but I wished that wouldn't make him talk down to me, since I hated when people did that.

So far, my time in Liverpool had been terrific. Ever since Liz on the train, the only people I'd met were very happy, laid back. Ignoring the fact that I'd only gotten to know Elaine. Nevertheless, the clerks at all the shops we stopped at were generally pleasant. Liverpool seemed like the perfect place for me. The perfect place for me to forget about my parents, my Grandmother, and pretty much anyone in Bristol, except for Jack and Alice. I knew there were other good people in Bristol, I just never took the time to know them.

I wondered if Grandmother had reported me missing to the police yet. Or dead. I didn't know which, but I assumed she'd prefer me dead. Grandfather died when I was 5, Alice was 8. I remember it a little, though it was ten years ago by now. Grandmother was nicer before that.

It was odd what death of another could do to a person. Grandmother got meaner, Alice got more protective, and I got quieter. I suppose Grandmum got it just as bad as we did, having lost her husband, then her son. She could've related to us more, though. Been a little more empathetic, perhaps?

Scrunching up my nose, I tucked away the tattered photo album underneath some clothes in the highest drawer. I hadn't unpacked very much last night, only half of the trunk, and the duffel. I pulled my violin case out from underneath my bed, and opened it. Alice had been learning piano, so I picked up some from her. Grandmother didn't like it when I would ' _use the violin improperly'_. Well, she definitely turned me away from even wanting to play it. Why did I even bother bringing it with me?

Sliding it back under my bed, I pulled the hundred pound notes from Jack out of my knapsack. This was a lot of money. I could probably buy a pretty fancy record player with it, but I'd rather save up for one on my own.

I laid back, checking the clock. There was only another hour before Mimi Smith and John would be over. I wondered if I would be able to hear them if I pressed my ear up against the wall. If Mimi was like Grandmother, John would either act just like me, which would be good, or he'd be some prissy wanker, one of those people that wears suits and dress clothing everywhere. Hopefully he wasn't the latter.

My pillow was delightfully soft. I had been wondering where Elaine had the money for all this, until she told me last night that the house used to be her great aunt's, and they left it fully furnished. Apparently Beatrice, the woman's name, made Elaine and her brother call her ' _Graunty_ ' Beatrice.

I couldn't tell if I was looking forward to having Mimi and John over tonight or not. It felt like everything was moving much faster, now that I was away from the dull repetition of Bristol. Which of course, reminded me of Alice. Why did she want to stay there? I had telephoned her again before I started cleaning this morning, and she had told me that Grandmother reported me dead, typical, and the police had checked for a body, which was a little disturbing to tell me. Like I'd want to know my corpse was being searched for. Anyhow, they had corrected the report to missing until they found a body, and that it was all over the radio. I just hoped that the news wouldn't spread all the way here to Merseyside. At least I'd be reported as Heather Eaton, not Roxanne Eaton. Honestly, I liked the sound of Roxanne better than Heather, along with the fact that Grandmother's name is Heather.

The doorbell rang. "Could you get that, Roxanne?" Elaine called from downstairs. I hurried to the door, brushing some hair out of my face before I opened it. A woman with black, curly short cut hair, dressed awfully primly, and a boy with light brown hair, styled into a quiff with the nicest brown eyes behind a pair of large glasses and surprisingly, a leather jacket. Maybe he wouldn't be too bad.

"Oh," the woman who I presumed to be Mimi Smith said, looking me up and down. John, I supposed, was eyeing me too. "Hello." I stepped out of the way to let them in. it sounded like Mimi was trying to have a posh accent or something, but it sounded odd over her Scouse one.

"Hello, Mimi, John!" Elaine called from the kitchen.

Mimi dipped her head. "Good evening. Urm, who's this?"

"Oh, yes!" Scurrying out of the kitchen, Elaine proudly clapped her hand on my shoulder. "This is Roxanne, she moved in yesterday. From Maghull, I hear." I nodded.

They clamoured off, Elaine back to the stove, and Mimi to the parlour that I had painstakingly cleaned all day, leaving me, still in the mudroom with John. "Maghull, eh?" He grinned, shoving his hands in his pockets. I nodded a little, staring at him. He had to be at least three or four inches taller than me. Mimi was about my height, though. "What made you want to come here?" Leaning against the wall, his smile grew wider as he brushed his hair back with his hand. My eyes were fixated on his cigarette. Grandmother never allowed them inside, no matter who was visiting, and I guess that habit brushed off onto me.

"Education. It was my parents." I muttered, and John pulled the fag from his lips, making me sigh internally of relief.

"Woah, woah. That's no Maghull accent, and I've heard plenty before." He said, nearly poking the lit cigarette into my chest.

I felt my cheeks flush red as my stomach dropped. "Yes, so what?" I clenched my fists. His voice was annoying. His accent was annoying. What business is he, commenting on mine?

John raised his eyebrows. " _Well_ , I'm saying you're not from Maghull."

"And?" I challenged stubbornly. Maybe I could just make him give up in frustration.

"So, your story is rubbish!" He exclaimed, his face getting in mine. Angrily, I slapped the cig out of his mouth and mashed it into the floor. John scrunched up his nose at me. "You made the mess. Clean it up, will you?" I huffed and dusted it out of the door with a broom that was laying nearby once he had strutted to the parlour. I was wrong about him being nice, he was an arrogant, good for nothing, self centred prick.

I stomped into the parlour, settling myself into a chair farthest away from John. "Tell me about yourself," Mimi got my attention. I folded my hands in my lap.

"Yes, of course." I shot a glare at John. "I'm from Maghull, of course-"

"Bollocks." John muttered, cutting me off.

I attempted to ignore him and keep talking. "Um, I play violin," Mimi looked impressed, then expectantly at John, who threw his hands up frustratedly. "A little piano, and I mostly sketch a lot."

"Yeah, well, have you a band?" John leant forward, a new grin plastered on his face. "No, you haven't. Because you don't have any friends here, and nobody wants to be in some posh twat's violin quartet!"

I gasped, trying to keep my cool as my fists clenched and unclenched, my heart beating. "John!" Mimi shouted, slamming the arm of her chair to shut him up. "You're a guest! Act like it!" He gazed at her sheepishly, and I wanted to rip his neck off. I grasped my chest, exhaling deeply to calm myself so I didn't jump him.

"It's ready!" Elaine called from the kitchen, obviously oblivious to all that had just gone on. It smelt wonderful, though. I tried to pass off all that had happened with John. We had gotten off on a bad foot, and it was getting worse by the second. I didn't even know what his problem with me was. Honestly, it bothered me a bit.

He sat down across from me, which I hated. He was obnoxious the whole meal, which I hated. He was loud and offensive, and worst of all, had lit another cigarette once the meal was done. "Roxanne," Elaine turned to me. "You finished unpacking, correct, why not show it off to John?" I tried shaking my head discretely, but Elaine didn't pick up on it. I sighed as John's chair scraped back. Resentfully, I thanked Elaine and trudged upstairs, John in close tow.

"What is your problem?" I demanded, closing the door behind him.

John stared at me, appalled. "Huh? Like I don't know you followed me here yesterday. Get a life!"

I growled in frustration. "That's exactly what I'm trying to do, wanker!"

" _Twat_!" He snapped in reply. I threw my arms up, stomping over to my bed and sitting down, crossing my arms.

Raising an eyebrow, I smirked. "Is twat the only insult you can think up?"

John huffed and leant back in his chair. "You're some posh little kid. I don't need to waste my breath on you."  
"Yeah. Sure. What'd you learn that attitude from? Your 'tough as nails' sailor dad?" I snorted, and I saw John freeze and stare at me. "What?" I asked, feeling a little guilty.

"Just," he grunted. "Don't."

I obliged, not wanting to talk to him anyways. He was talking like they were the higher end of British, like he was a high quality person or something. Wrong, he's a snide little sailor boy, who just by chance can tote a guitar or something. I leant against the wall and looked to the side, away from him.

John sighed after a moment. "We got off on a bad foot, huh?" He murmured, and I gritted my teeth.

"Yeah, no shit!" I huffed, raising an eyebrow at him.

"So?"

Appalled, I glared at him. "Are you expecting me to apologize or something? Because I'm not going to." John made a frustrated noise.

"Worth a try," he muttered. Was he trying to push my buttons? I hoped Elaine would be finished with dinner soon, so I could look at other people besides his ugly mug. "You're so full of yourself, you know?"

I laughed this time, having bit my tongue on the last few arbitrary comments he had made. "Me? Full of myself? You think Liverpool's the nicest place on Earth, and the east is the rubbish area! My sister was right, the lot of you aren't real British!" Dad was quite patriotic, Alice and I got it from him.

John stood up, eyes blazing as he was obviously severely offended. "Honestly!" He shouted. "And where you're from is much better? Tell me, where'd you come from?" I opened my mouth but he cut me off. "And don't give me any of that 'Maghull' bollocks."

I tilted my head as I clenched my fists, ready to stand and swiftly punch him if need be. "For your information, John, I'm from Bristol, a much nicer place than this!" It was quite ironic me saying this, having only moved here the afternoon before the reason being that I was tired of Bristol and its way of treating me.

"If it's so nice, why didn't you stay? It's good for stuck up tossers like you!" John sneered, and I got up, hitting him square in the jaw as Elaine opened the door.

"Roxanne!" She exclaimed, seeing my fist collide with John's face, which felt rather pleasant, must I say so myself. "What are you doing?" I stared at her before looking down at my fists.

"Um.."

John was hissing in pain as he clenched his jaw. He straightened up to glare at me, murmuring something under his breath which I took as a threat, even though I couldn't hear it properly.

Elaine narrowed her eyes disapprovingly at me, exhaling sharply. "I was going to say that I had brought out some sweets." She turned to John. "Would you like some ice for that?" Elaine asked him, eyeing me in disdain. He shook his head, but I wished he had said yes, so he would get out of the room and leave me alone. Instead, he was trying to be tough or something. As Elaine left the room, he sat back down, still wincing with his hand on his jaw. I didn't even punch that hard, he was just milking it.

"Thanks for this," he griped angrily, practically asking for me to hit the other side. "Real nice."

I huffed, sitting on the floor. "Maybe if you weren't such a prick you wouldn't get punched by girls."

"Yeah, a real bird, aren't you?"

Resisting the urge to punch him again, I began playing with my fingers. "I'd take my grandmother over you, that's for sure." I gritted my teeth.

John smirked. "Why your grandmother? Were you so stuck up your Mummy and Daddy were fed up with you and dumped you off with Grams?" I froze, my face flushed although I was seething with anger, my heart pumping as I searched for a witty enough comeback to make him cry for Mimi. He seemed to be fuelled by some rage from an outside source.

"Is that why you're living with your aunt?" I shot back. "Because your parents didn't want you anymore?" His expression dropped, and he let out a soft whimper. "I'm.. I'm sorry." I admitted, looking to the ground. I didn't know about him, but I had worded it too harshly. Maybe that's actually what happened, why he's living with Mimi.

John's expression grew fiery and unforgiving again. "Don't apologize." He said coldly, staring at me. "You don't even know me." Without another word, he stormed out of my room, seeming to have forgotten about his jaw as he walked straight out of the house, angrily pulling what looked like a lighter and a pack of cigarettes out of his pockets and lighting one clumsily. He looked like a bloke, standing out there, glaring at people as they passed by. How tough.

I stepped downstairs back into the parlour, finding Elaine and Mimi still chatting as if John hadn't passed by in his little fit of rage. Perhaps this happened often.

As I still was adjusting to the whole Liverpool scene, all the new people, I strode to the door without a word to the two ladies. John hadn't moved, except for whipping around to face me. "What do you want now?" He demanded.

I didn't know exactly why I had returned to him. I had wanted him to leave me alone mere minutes before, but here I was now, seeking him out. "We started off wrong, yeah?" I attempted to soothe him, stepping closer. "How about we start over?" I offered, holding out a hand. Now, I didn't do this very often, but if Mimi and Elaine were good friends as implied, and John had a band, and all these people he knew, I would be on a bad foot with practically everyone in Liverpool, and I didn't want it turning out like Bristol so I had to run away to somewhere else again.

John stared at me, then his eyes shifted down to my outstretched hand. He took the lit fag out of his mouth, eyeing me carefully. "Did Mimi set you up to this?" He asked, and I shook my head. "Well, then. I guess I'm sorry too, for being a bit of a wanker." A bit. Sure. I dared not say that aloud though. The whole neighbourhood would hear, and kaput, I'd have to move somewhere else, or worse, be stuck back in Bristol. He shook my hand hesitantly, muttering "This best hadn't be a joke," under his breath.

"It's not." I reassured him. "Now, let's make a deal. You never bring up me being from Bristol, and I never bring up your parents." John raised an eyebrow, grinning a bit.

"Deal."


	3. Chapter 3

"You shouldn't have gone," Alice's voice quivered over the telephone. "Grandmother thinks you're dead, and the media's all over our house, and you know Jack doesn't like that sort of thing."

I pinched the bridge of my nose. "Tell them to leave. Say you have no comment!"

"Do you think they're going to listen?" Alice's agitated tone made me flinch. "Mum and Dad wouldn't have liked this."

I clenched my free hand. "If Mum and Dad were still around I wouldn't have run away!"

There was a pause before Alice sighed. "Look, I don't like you being in Liverpool. I don't know what you're up to, I don't even know if you're okay!" She stressed.

"I'm fine!" I replied as the doorbell rang. "I've got to answer that, I'm sorry. Goodbye Alice, I love you."

Alice didn't say anything in reply. She only hung up, making my stomach drop as I rushed to the door. John stood on the other end, toting a guitar case. "Erm, hi. The band's doing a little gig by Quarry Bank. Want to come?" He pulled his cigarette out of his mouth. It had been a little over a week or so since we had met, and surprisingly we had become somewhat friends. This was the first time he had invited me to something involved with his band, the Quarrymen. He wasn't wearing his glasses, which I supposed he didn't when doing things in public. A self conscious thing, most likely.

"Sure." I shrugged, having done all of Elaine's chores not long beforehand.

John leant over to glance beyond my shoulder. "And, erm, don't take that violin of yours, thanks."

I furrowed my brow unhappily. "Yes, fine." It was still warm since it was August, finally, meaning my birthday was coming up in a few days.

John had told me a lot about the Quarrymen. About their show at St. Peter's Church in Woolton in early July, where he had met a 'nicely dressed lad', Paul McCartney, whose surname was oddly familiar. He joined the Quarrymen a few days before my arrival to Liverpool. There was also Eric Griffiths, to John's description, sounded quite nice. He played guitar alongside John. Colin Hanton on drums, Rod Davies on banjo, who apparently was quite good, Pete Shotton on washboard, and Len Garry played tea chest bass. Ivan had been the one to introduce Paul to the group. John often bragged about Eric, and their performance in Woolton to me.

I didn't know whether to feel guilty, or mad at Alice after our discussion over telephone, I mulled as I walked beside John on the pavement, down to his school, which would eventually be mine. I was being rational and polite, but she had hung up on me. "Oi," John clapped a hand on my shoulder. "What're you staring off into nothing for? Stop worrying, let loose. We're not in Prude-ville anymore." He laughed at his own joke as we approached a small group of people sitting in front of Quarry Bank. He greeted them all heartily as I stood off to the side. "Oh, yeah, this is Roxanne." He waved me up to him, and I plastered a fake smile on my face as I scanned the group. Two boys with guitars were standing with each other, one with the guitar held to the left, who was Paul McCartney, since John was also bragging about how he was left handed. As I stared at his face, he was oddly familiar. His eyebrows were arched, eyes large, with large cheeks and a petite nose. He had been looking me over as well, it was quite odd. I figured beside him was Eric Griffiths, who, honestly looked a bit sour. Pete Shotton was beside him, the washboard between his legs. There was a girl with him who I had no idea who she was, but she hadn't any instruments, like me. Colin Hanton had a small set of drums, and Len Garry with the bass. "Well, erm, we're going to practice now, so.." He trailed off awkwardly before the other girl dragged me off to the side. I still felt Paul McCartney's eyes following me.

"Hello, hello." She shook my hand, grinning widely, her bob bouncing as she hopped about me. "I'm Pheobe, Pete's girlfriend, pleasure to meet you. John had never said anything about meeting a Roxanne before, is this new? Or are you just hanging around for a few shags before you both find somebody new?" Her questions hit me like stones as they came flying towards me.

"Uhm, yeah. John and I aren't really a thing, I just moved in next door to him yesterday." I murmured, pushing some hair behind my ear. Pheobe did an 'Ohh' and clapped her hands. She was very eccentric. It turned out she was a year older than me, but she didn't act much like it. Apparently her parents told her the name Pheobe meant 'high spirits', which was quite the load of bollocks, they were probably just making excuses for her childish behaviour. As she yammered on, I glanced back over at Paul. He was just too familiar. His face, name, even. I had no idea from where, though, and it frustrated me. "Eyeing Paulie, I see?" Pheobe giggled, poking my shoulder.

I glared at her, scrunching up my nose. "Him? No! He seems awfully familiar to me, that's all!" I spluttered, slightly offended. "I just can't put my finger on it.." I pushed the thought out of my mind, turning back to Pheobe. "You were saying?"

I had seen Paul gazing at me out of the corner of my eye until- "Oi, Paul! If you're going to be in the band you'd best be paying attention!" Eric shouted, making him jump.

"Yeah, sorry." He mumbled, and I decided not to look at him any more until they were done practising or whatever they were up to. Pheobe giggled at Paul's slip up, her curls bouncing along with her jaunty laughs. I wasn't much of a fan of her, I concluded, watching her chortle unattractively.

Pheobe glanced at me, smiling. "My father always talks about the poor McCartneys." She told me. I blinked at her, unsure if I was to say anything. "He lost his mother a year or so ago, and the dad's a nut." Pheobe reported, tossing her hair behind her shoulder. "Poor boy. You know, it's funny I'm even here, my mother despises me hanging out with all these... Lower class people you'd say, yeah? Silly thing is, Pete's one of them, but he's an exception, it makes my father furious." She giggled again, making me feel a tad sick in the stomach, but I still nodded, forcing my lips up into a smile. "Now, say, your speaking mannerisms are just to die for. Have you practiced that sort of speech?" Her speaking mannerisms made me want to die. I shook my head, wringing my hair in my hands. If she could shut up for a moment, I'd actually be able to hear my thoughts and not her bloody gossip, whatever it was.

Their practice had ended a half hour later, Len Garry, Pete Shotton, and Pheobe left first. I never caught her last name so I could make sure to avoid her and her family, which was a little bit of a let down. Colin Hanton had excused himself shortly after, being trailed by Eric Griffiths, until it was me standing off to the side as John and Paul spoke to each other. "Damnit, almost forgot." I hadn't been listening to Paul or John much until this. Paul leant over to me, holding out his hand. "Paul McCartney." He introduced himself as I shook it.

"I've heard." I smiled, eyes darting all over his face, desperately trying to recognize him. "Roxanne Eaton."

Paul's eyebrows furrowed. "You seem familiar, or is that just me? I swear I've seen you around." John laughed, stepping between us.

"She moved in two days ago, actually." He grinned toothily at Paul, who raised an eyebrow. "Right next door to me."

"Why couldn't you have been more pleasant with me like with Paul when we first met?" John asked, slinging his guitar case over his shoulder as we walked away from Quarry Bank.

I snorted, pushing some hair behind my ear. "You did tell me I hadn't any friends and that I was a 'posh twat', so.."

John held up his hands. "I said I was sorry!"

Nodding at him before I looked back at the pavement, we turned a corner. "It's my birthday in a week or so, you can make it up to me then." I smirked at him.

"Your birthday?" John repeated. "Well, I'll be. How old will the birthday girl be turning?" He put his hands on his hips.

"Fifteen." I told him, and John stopped in his tracks quite literally.

"Erm... _Fifteen_?"

"Yes, is there an echo out here?" I raised an eyebrow, crossing my arms.

John scratched the back of his head. "I thought you were seventeen.." He confessed. "You're practically a kid!"

Pressing my lips together, I narrowed my eyes at him. "Do you have an issue with that?" He didn't speak, starting to walk again. I huffed before catching up to him. "How old are you, then?"

"Seventeen in October." He mumbled, placing a hand on the strap of his guitar case.

I groaned frustratedly, glaring at him. "You're not even two years older than me, so I'm not a child." John lit a new cigarette, offering one to me. I turned it down. I'd start smoking on my birthday, I just needed to start the habit. Grandmother would never let me have any, and if I were to ever have any on my person I'd not be given the next meal. "Why were you so terrible when you came over that day?"

He ran his hand through his hair, sighing. "We used to have another tea chest guy, Ivan Vaughan." John explained. "He gave us Paul, but then the fucker decided he'd leave the band right after, leaving us with that tosser Len. I was just agitated." He confessed as I wrung my hands. "See you later." I nodded, opening the gate to Elaine's place as he kept walking, jumping the fence since he was too lazy to open the gate himself, letting himself into Mimi's house. I smiled a little, closing the door behind me.

I turned to see Elaine sitting in the parlour, sipping a cup as a record I'd never heard before played. "What's that?" I asked, sitting across from her.

Elaine grinned, uncrossing her legs, hazel eyes twinkling. "Glad you asked, it's the King himself, Elvis Presley." She held up a record sleeve depicting a delectably attractive man, cheekbones nicely carved, and hair pleasantly slicked back, which me internally swoon. _'Elvis Presley: Loving You'_ was written neatly on the cover.

"Never heard of him," I gasped, taking the sleeve from her to inspect him closer. "I wasn't allowed to listen to much rock and roll."

Her face scrunched. "Never heard of Elvis? Figures, he's American. You probably wouldn't get as much of their music in Maghull as we do." I nodded, although it wasn't true. Bristol got plenty of their media, Grandmother was just strongly against it, banning it from the house. Alice and Jack had a plethora of records though, and sometimes when I came over we didn't speak, we just listened to records. Alice had let me borrow a Chuck Berry album, I had kept it hidden but Grandmother suddenly decided to search my room and found it. I didn't have dinner for five days, so I often went over to Alice's for meals in that time.

I snapped out of my little train of thought. "So, you like it?" Elaine gave me a toothy grin. I smiled, nodding. "Dreamy, isn't he?" I nodded again, more vigorously this time. She sighed softly, propping her chin up with her hand as she leant against the armrest of the sofa.

The song ended, and I stood up, about to leave. "Um, what day is it today?" I asked her.

"August ninth." She confirmed, glancing at a calendar hanging near the record player.

I clasped my hands together. "Gear, my birthday's in nine days, then." I had picked up the term _'gear'_ from John. "If I could call my family please, that'd be great."

Elaine tapped the floral couch's fabric with her fingertips. "Now, Roxanne. I've told you, you don't need to ask to use the telephone."

I gazed at her sheepishly. "I know."

"Off you go, then." She waved me off and I scurried to the kitchen, snatching the telephone off its base, dialling Alice swiftly.

"Hello?" Jack picked up. I froze.

"Um, hello, Jack." I greeted him. I heard a disgruntled huff, and a 'it's Heather'. It startled me, how suddenly his opinion changed of me in a few days. My gut twisted and I pushed some hair out of my face. If I was caught, and deported back to Bristol, I could never bring myself to show my face to them. "Can I.. Can I talk to Alice?" This barely came out as a whisper, my pride having vanished thanks to his attitude.

I heard some crackling as the telephone was passed to my sister. "Heather?" I flinched, not wanting her to call me that. What if somebody heard?

"Hi Alice." I stammered. What else was I to say? She was mad at me, I had no idea why.

She paused. "So, why did you have to leave so early this afternoon?"

I scratched the back of my head. "The neighbour boy next door had come over." I hadn't told her about John yet, so he would have to be 'the neighbour boy' until she was in a better mood and I could tell her.

"Oh?" Alice said. "And?" Her mood had lightened a tad, lifting a trifle of weight off my chest.  
"I went to see his band."

"Was it good?" Alice pressed.

"I suppose."

There was another pause. "Look, how about you telephone tomorrow?" She finally murmured. "You seem tired." That hit me like a rock, and I stood, unspeaking by the table that the little rotary phone sat on. "Heather?"  
"Yes." I droned.

I felt terrible. Alice was disappointed in me. For what? That I had moved? Grandmother didn't want me, and I didn't want Bristol. Who was she, trying to keep me from what I wanted for her own selfish needs?

I cleared the rotten thoughts from my head. If I thought of Alice like that, we may as well never rebuild our relationship. "Goodbye, then." Alice hung up. I placed the telephone back on its base before looking back up to see Elaine, looking concerned in the doorway.

"I know how I felt when my brother starter becoming pissy." She told me, staring closely at me. "I wanted to follow my dreams, become a writer for the newspaper, so I moved away from my home not too far from here to live in this house, my great aunt's.

And you know what he did? He was older, but I had enough money to go to the nicest university in London for a degree so I could write for the Telegraph. And he took it. He took all that money so he could be a lawyer. Not even because he wanted to, it was my mother, and she let him. Now he's off in ruddy old Norway, and I'm stuck here, in this rubbish Liverpool, as a sodding nurse!" Her voice raised as she spoke, before she smacked the doorframe angrily. "I didn't want to be a nurse!" She sobbed, tears springing from her eyes. "He ruined my life!" I took a step back. I didn't want Alice and I turning out like that, but it sure looked like we would. "And the moral of this story? Don't let your siblings guilt you into things you don't want to do. To hell with them. Go where you're going to go, Roxanne, don't listen to your sister." She held my shoulders, crying frantically. I gazed at her, then decided I'd gradually stop phoning Alice. If Mum and Dad were around, she wouldn't behave like that. If they were still around, Jack wouldn't be in the picture, I wouldn't have lived with Grandmother, and I'd still be in Bristol. I'd still be friends with Maureen Hawthorne, who had stopped, because she said I was asking for too much attention after my parents died! I boiled with anger. A desperate, sad anger.

"I wish my parents were still alive." I told Elaine simply.

She jumped. "Alive? You told me they had sent you here for schooling!"

I clenched my teeth, as well as my fists. "Well, I lied." Forcing my expression to soften, I glanced to the side. "Will you please let me stay anyways?"

I heard Elaine sigh quietly. "Of course." She murmured. "Of course."

Nodding slightly, I pulled myself out of her grip. "I need to think for a little bit."

Her hair was strewn across her face, but she swiftly pulled it into order. "As do I." We parted ways, I heading upstairs myself, not knowing where else to go.

Flipping open the photo album, I stared at the brilliantly arranged photographs on the page. Mum liked that sort of thing, saying 'memories were a beautiful thing, and they needed to be kept that way.' I ran my hand along a picture in front of our old house, Alice with her front teeth missing, me with one bottom tooth. Mum and Dad stood proudly on either side of us, smiling widely. Them dying completely ruined my life.

I thought back to John. And Paul. He looked like my mother, I decided. If she had brown eyes, and a slightly broader face. It had to be coincidence. Closing the book, I hugged it to my chest as I laid back on my bed, shutting my eyes.

Liverpool seemed like the right place for me. Like I was starting to belong, not like in Bristol. I'd say John was a friend, by now. I wanted to try to befriend Paul McCartney, as well as Pete Shotton, though I had second guesses about Eric Griffiths and Pheobe, especially Pheobe. She reminded me too much of Stacey. I suppose there's people like that everywhere.


	4. Chapter 4

Since tomorrow, August 18th, was my birthday, John had decided to show me the Cavern Club, which he told me 'was the best on Saturdays'. It was a pub, where bands often performed. He had mentioned wanting to play there with the Quarrymen one day.

We were going to sneak in, meeting Pete, Pheobe, and Eric there for the afternoon. I was awfully nervous. John seemed plenty confident we wouldn't be found out and kicked to the curb, though, so I decided I'd brave my nerves and go check out the Cavern.

"The atmosphere, the mood, it's all brilliant." John gushed to me as we walked out a local record shop. He had been showing me some of the music he liked, and I noted some of it to see if Elaine had any. "You'll love it. Everyone does. It's one of the few things that actually makes living in Liverpool worth the burden."

He was in the middle of fixing his hair in a window reflection. Inside were breads and other baked novelties. I raised an eyebrow. "Is that so?" Just as I had said that, the curtains of the small bakery pulled back, showing the rest of the shop. A pudgy, bald man shook a rolling pin angrily at us before swinging the door open.

"Get out of the way of my window, bloody kids! I'm trying to sell food, not your sodding rock and roll music!" He had said 'rock and roll' oddly, like it was foreign to him, which was quite funny. Apparently John had thought so too, because he laughed, then grabbed my forearm and ran off, dragging me with him as he saluted the baker sarcastically.

I giggled as we turned a corner, John starting to slow down. "The wanker looked like a hog, didn't he?" He snorted, letting go of my arm. I had rather liked his hand around it, though.

"He probably ate his wife," I sneered, catching my breath. John burst out laughing on the sidewalk, in front of the passerby, sides heaving, face red. "Dear Lord! John!"

He braced himself on the wall before straightening up. "Ah, I just didn't expect that out of you. You being a... Kid and all." John was still somewhat uncomfortable around me for being fourteen or something along those lines, which I didn't understand, because he acted quite childish himself.

I crossed my arms, frowning. "Yes, of course. Are we almost at the Cavern?"

John looked around before pointing down an alleyway, where a few people were loitering. "It's right down there, actually.

Staring at John absurdly, I felt my stomach drop nervously. "Is this a joke or something?"

His head bopped as if I had said something offensive. "No, I told you! It looks like rubbish outside. Trust me on this one. The others are probably already waiting for us."

I rubbed my arm as John sweet-talked the club's security. "We're just wanting some music, a good time, yeah?"

The burly man stared down at John. "Fine then. Just don't make any trouble." He finally grunted after a minute. Large muscles ripping at his shirt made me nervous, and his clenching fists with huge knuckles were absolutely terrifying to think about getting hit with.

"Ta, mate." John flashed a grin at the man, before pulling me inside with him quickly before he could say anything else to us.

Although he did get the last word in. "I know the both of you are underaged, by the way!" He had called after us, and John only sped up, pushing through some crowds to a large table, where Pete, Eric, and Pheobe were already sitting on high stools. Pete waved to John as we sat down. They slid beers up to us, and John had already taken a long swig of his before I could even touch mine, not that I wanted to drink it, anyways.

The four of them stared at me. "Well?" Asked Pheobe. I tilted my head questioningly. What were they asking about? The low ceiling? Décor? Drink quality? Crowd quality? Band? "The Cavern, silly!" She cuffed my shoulder.

"Oh," I smiled. "Yes, it's lovely."

John looked rather excited. Eric had nodded to the band performing.  
"That's Rory and the Hurricanes. They've got a nice getup." He told me gruffly, and I nodded in agreement. They were in matching outfits, and I noticed one of the members had a lot of rings accenting his fingers. Rory looked to be about John's age, maybe older, and he was rather attractive.

I felt John's elbow jab into my abdomen. "Oi, so are you going to try it or not?" He asked, motioning towards the foaming golden alcohol. I gazed at it. I didn't really want to have any, Mum was against drinking, and Dad was against Alice and I having any before we were eighteen, though he went to the pub often. They were also killed by a drunk driver, nevertheless.

I glanced back up at John, then shook my head. "You can have it." I told him. He shrugged at the others then took it from me, giving me a subtle nod. The Hurricanes by then had started playing a new song, one I hadn't heard before, though it looked like Pheobe was tapping her foot along to it.

I sank into my seat, melting my worries away and enjoying the afternoon with all my new friends. My birthday was definitely going to be a good day.

The next morning, I stood with the phone receiver to my ear. After three rings, Alice finally picked up, halfway through the fourth. "Hello," I greeted her cheerily.

"Happy birthday, Heather." Alice murmured, making me feel a tad self-conscious. I decided to confront her.

"What has your problem been recently? For real?" I demanded.

Alice sighed. "Maybe if you hadn't insulted Grandmother and ruined your room, I would be more accepting of you moving." She said coldly.

I stopped, "Wait- what?"

"Grandmother said you had trashed your room, then told her she was an 'old bat that should just go ahead and die'." Alice reported.

My eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "You don't really believe that, do you?" I murmured, hurt. Why would Grandmother do that? Why would Alice be so gullible as to blame me when I had moved away? She should know I'd never do that.

I caught sight of Elaine staring at me in my peripheral vision, her hands on her hips. "Well, I don't know why Grandmum would've lied about that, and you definitely ran off without telling me until the last second."

I frowned sadly. "So? We're sisters, Alice, I'd never do that to you!" Elaine stepped closer, looking concerned.

"I'm sorry, but Grandmother seems to be very bothered by this, and you're living the 'good life' out in Liverpool, so-"

Elaine snatched the phone out of my hands. "I would like it if you stopped talking to your sister," She spoke into the receiver.

"Hey- what are you doing?" I grabbed at the phone, but Elaine kept it out of my reach.

She looked at me with wide, desperate eyes. "It's for your own good!" The woman shouted before slamming the receiver down and unplugging the telephone from the line. Elaine took a few heavy breaths before exhaling deeply, closing her eyes. "You cannot get caught up with your sister. Live in the now. Live for you."

I pressed my lips together, narrowing my eyes at her. "I wanted to talk to her for my birthday," I drawled, clenching my fist.

Elaine stopped. "...Your birthday?" I nodded furiously, and she took a step back. "I'm... I'm sorry, I-"

I waved her off, stomping out of the house, slamming the door behind me. I stared at my feet angrily. How dare she try to stop me from talking to my sister? I huffed angrily before bumping into somebody right in front of our gate. I gasped, furrowing my brows at whoever I had hit.

John grinned at me, dusting myself off. "Where are you going in such a hurry?" His face then softened as he examined my furious expression. "Oh. Of course Elaine might forget your birthday, you barely know her, and she-"

I gazed at him, hurt as I held my arms. "It's not that," I murmured. "I was trying to talk to my sister." Sighing deeply, I glanced away from John. "Elaine took the telephone away and hung up."

"You do know she has issues with her brother, right?" I nodded slowly, but what would that change? She shouldn't be trying to control my life. "Just let her do what she thinks is right. In the meantime, feel free to call your sister from Mimi's." John patted my shoulder before holding up a small package. "Oh, yeah. Got this for ya." He handed it to me, and I stared at it. Brown wrapping paper with minimal decoration, but it was something, and I appreciated it greatly. John and I barely knew each other, but he still thought enough of me to buy me a gift.

I grinned at John before unwrapping it neatly. "Thank you," I murmured as I pulled the paper off to reveal a quaint little notepad and a book, titled 'The Last Of the Wine'. "Did you pick this out yourself?" I held it up to him.  
"Erm, yeah. I saw you had a bunch of books in your room, and that you didn't have this one. I just kinda picked it out." He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly as my bad mood completely disappeared.

"Really?" I smirked. "What's it about?"

John raised an eyebrow. "It's about this Greek kid, who's a really good at running, and how he falls in love with this Lysis, and their relationship, while Lysis is married, oh, it's a great book. I hope you'll like it."

It was hilarious doing that. I knew John secretly liked reading, but didn't want anyone to know, as to keep up his 'teddy boy' appearance. It was a quirky character trait of his that I quite fancied. "I'm sure I will," I smiled, and pulled him into a quick hug.

I felt him laugh over my shoulder as he held me in his arms. "I'm sorry it's not much, though." He apologized as he pulled away.

"That's fine, I'm just so happy I got a gift, I wasn't expecting something." John crossed his arms, looking satisfied with himself.

"So, I was thinking we go to the pier for a little while?" He shrugged. "To let you get to know the city better?"

I nodded. "Sure, it's not like I have anything better to do." John's eyes brightened.

"Come 'ead!" He called, then hurried off to the bus station on the corner of Menlove. As I caught up, I felt him link his arm around mine. I glanced down at them, but he apparently didn't notice he was doing so, or something. I didn't care enough to pull my arm away, though.

I sat in a small diner across from John. It was mostly empty, so we could hear the clatter in the kitchen, as well as the small radio that was playing near us. "Good food?" He asked me after a long silence. I smiled, still listening to the radio before it crackled and a report came on the air.

"A young teenager from the Bristol area has been missing for a month and a half now. If you know the whereabouts of Heather Eaton, please telephone this number -" I sat up and stared at John, who seemed nonchalant about it. My eyes widened as they kept speaking. "She is described to be about five and a half feet tall, have long, red, curled hair, fair features, and green eyes. The reward for finding her is two thousand pounds." Only then did John look up at me, and I tried shuffling into the corner of my seat, as I didn't want anyone seeing me right then, especially with such a large sum of money over my head.

The door opened suddenly with the clang of a bell, and I slumped farther down into my seat as a girl, presumably about my or John's age, hurried in, apologizing loudly.

A cook came out, and started shouting at her about 'being fired the next time she came in late'. I tried not to eavesdrop, but I couldn't help it, until John finally spoke again.

"Lots of people leaving Bristol, yeah?" He said through a mouthful of food. "It really is a rubbish place to live, isn't it?" Laughing, he glanced up at me. I nodded hesitantly, giving him a weak smile. "We'd best get out of here." He concluded, leaving some money on the table.

I spent the rest of the day slightly paranoid as John lead me around the pier, going into different shops and eventually walking barefoot along the beach, him going on about his dreams of being a famous musician. "You have your whole life planned out," I confessed. "I don't even know what I want to be when I'm older."

"Well, what do you like to do?" He asked, kicking a rock farther ahead of us, as he had been doing for a few minutes with the same rock.

I thought for a moment. "Art, and reading, I suppose." I murmured, as John watched me with his milky brown eyes.

"Don't you play violin?"

"Yes, but that doesn't mean I like it," I replied bitterly before sighing. I made a mistake taking it along with me. "I'm not even that good at all my subjects in school."

John shrugged. "Me neither, but that doesn't really matter to me." He said, fixing his quiff.

I sighed, staring out to the sea, as the setting sun shone over it for one of the first times since I came to Liverpool, dying the waves magnificent colours of oranges and reds, making it look as if it were on fire. I needed to come here more often. Glancing at John, I fully took in his features. He had a long nose, a pointed chin, slightly broad shoulders, and squinting eyes as he didn't have his glasses on. I often heard Mimi nagging him to put them on, but he would always tell me they were a 'burden on his persona', which made me snigger every time he said it. "We should head back." I murmured as the sun crept closer and closer to the horizon. "It's getting late."

John nodded in agreement, glancing out onto the sea before climbing back up on the boardwalk, helping me up, which I accepted, even though I didn't need it. He pulled out his pack of cigarettes again and put one between his lips before offering me one.

I stared at it closely. Grandmother, strangely enough, was against smoking, even though it wasn't like it killed people. She said it was 'the sinner's practice', as she was heavily Christian and decided that Jesus didn't like smoking.

Wanting to rebel against that thought, I took the cig after a deep breath, and let him light it for me.

"She's a bloomin' tosser if that's the way you were treated," John huffed as I told him to what extent living with Grandmother was like. "I don't blame you for wantin' to run off." He tapped his chin. "It's funny, huh? Bristol's emptying out. I'll be surprised if there's anyone left living there in a few years." He laughed. I was just relieved he hadn't put two and two together that I had been the missing girl they announced over the radio.

I pulled my cigarette from my lips, having gotten accustomed to it already as I puffed the smoke. "I suppose." I muttered. "It was a nice city, really. The people were the issue for me." John only shrugged in reply as we waited at the bus stop.

"Did you have a good time?" He asked after a few moments of silence. It was good, I had fun.

I nodded, smiling up at John. "Yes, thank you." I had the whole day to think about lots of things, and something that often came up was that Paul McCartney. Everything about him was so familiar, even though I couldn't put my finger on it. His name, his face, his actions. I knew them from somewhere, and it was bothering me intensely. "John?"

"Hm?" He glanced over at me, raising an eyebrow.

I was about to ask him about Paul before our bus pulled up. Cussing silently as we boarded, I had my elbow propped up on the window for quite a few minutes before John said anything more. "What were you going to ask me?"

I glanced at him, then shrugged, already having forgotten. John scrunched up his nose, then turned to look out the other window. It was quite peaceful, the bus was nearly empty, since it was after the evening rush. We both sat silently on the bottom level as the bus moved along the street.

Until it lurched terribly. I gasped, one hand grabbing the seat in front, and the other's nails instinctively digging into John's arm. "Hey- what's your problem?" He griped, pulling his arm away and inspecting the little crescent-shaped I had accidentally left in it.

"I'm sorry!" I cried. "It's... A thing. I don't like it when vehicles do that."

He gritted his teeth. "That's stupid! Blimey, I think you broke the skin."

I forced myself to look out the window, feeling terribly guilty. "I know, I'm sorry." I repeated, brushing my hair back, though some of it fell back over my eye, as it always did.

John took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. "It's alright." He finally muttered, as we hopped off the bus. He stayed silent as we continued towards our homes. I anxiously wrung my hands, glancing back and forth from them to John, who was staring forward at the sidewalk ahead. I felt awful. Although, what else was I to do? Habits are habits, and they are formed by fear, and my fear was that I would end up with the same fate as my parents. Totalled. A fatal car crash. Two lives that had ended in a matter of seconds. I didn't want to end that way.

Nevertheless, nobody does.

John had said goodbye right before we parted ways, which made me feel a trifle less guilty, although he was still eyeing his forearm, which I had impaled, to exaggerate, at the least.

Elaine had greeted me in an overwhelmingly nice sort of way, which I could tell was a sort of "apology" for her being so rude as to hang up the telephone on me while I was trying to speak to my sister, even going so far as to bake something that I had dubbed an 'apology cake' for me. I turned it down, my thoughts still turned towards Edith and Lawrence, my Mum and Dad.

And with that somber note, my fifteenth birthday came to a close as soon as my head hit the pillow, as I was exhausted from my day with John.


	5. Chapter 5

This morning was terrible. I could go on for days. Of course, John had been fine. It was his mother I had issues with. No, not Mimi. I was talking about Julia.

He had dragged me along to meet her, and his stepfather and two half sisters. Mimi had pulled me aside and said something about not approving of Julia, saying something about it being the ' _House of Sin_ ', whereas 251 Menlove was the ' _House of Correction_ ', which I would soon understand why.

As soon as he had knocked on the door, "Come in!" Rang from the other side in the most fake sing-song voice I'd ever heard. John was grinning, the little sheep he was as he opened the door. A woman with red hair and bold red lipstick that overpowered her seashell eyes was hopping around in a tart dress with an apron.

"Mum!" John cried, pulling her into a hug. "How are you?" Julia giggled as her son embraced her.

"Oh, John, you _divvy_!" She cried endearingly. I stood off to the side, watching them awkwardly. "My, and who's this?" Julia glanced over John's shoulder at me.

John waved me over, and I took a small step forward. "Roxanne, Mum. She moved in with Elaine Porter not too long ago." I gave a little wave.

"Brilliant!" Julia beamed. "Bobby, Julie, Jackie, come on in! Johnny's here!" I frowned at how unnaturally happy she was. Two little girls came running in, hugging John, squealing. A larger man followed, his thin moustache slightly untidy. John was smiling, which made me feel guilty for not approving of Julia. I felt like Mimi. "Sit down, sit down!" She insisted, so I sat beside John on a sofa. Julia plopped herself down on the other side of John, pressing me into the side of the armrest. She hugged him again, making me uncomfortable before she leant over to the other end and pulled out a record. I squinted to look at the title. ' _My Son John, To Me You Are So Wonderful_.' I cringed. "Your favourite!" Julia squealed before putting it on the turntable, that was already spinning, waiting for John's arrival. He turned to grin at me.

"Isn't this great?" He asked.

I shook my head.

John's eyebrows furrowed angrily at me before Julia tapped his shoulder. "Bifters, you two?" She held out cigarettes. I turned mine down, but John took his, pulling out a lighter in the process.

"Ta, Mum." He said, muffled by the cig in his mouth as he lit it.

The song was terrible. It was cheesy and repetitive. Sitting on the couch, I stared off to the other side of the room as Julia, John, and his two sisters danced around. Bobby stayed seated across from me, but I ignored him, and the other four's ' _jolly good time_.' I wanted to walk out, but it'd be rude, and I'd probably get lost on my way back home anyways. I groaned quietly, throwing my head back as John was pulled up by Julia to dance with her and the other two girls.

After a few hours, Julia had sent John off with a few sandwiches, wishing me a 'farewell until next time.' Yes, sure. I'd rather not go back, it was terrifyingly boring.

"Why don't you just live with Julia?" I asked as we made our way down a sidewalk, a few streets away from Julia's house.

John's chipper mood seemed to vanish when I had asked that question. "She made me choose between her and Alf." He murmured.

"What?"

"They made me choose between one another when I was a kid. Who I loved more. I chose her, but Mimi took me in," He snorted. "Always running to Mummy, aren't I?" I stayed quiet, listening to our feet hit the pavement rhythmically. "Sorry." He apologized after a minute.

I wasn't sure if both parents being dead was worse than not even living with one or seeing the other. "I know how you feel," I commented.

"No, you don't, you can still see your parents in the same room." He muttered angrily as if I had offended them.

I scoffed. "They're dead, John."

He stared at me, as if I had said something much more obscure than I actually had. "Oh." I held my forearms protectively as we kept walking.

I can still remember the funeral. Alice and I had asked for them to put ' _Till Death Do Us Part_ ' on their gravestones- it was one of Mum's favourite sayings, she had it displayed on the wall above her and Dad's bed. Our family from all over the country had come to the funeral, even Dad's sister who had been living in Italy. All of Mum's siblings were there. The McCartneys, Jack, Jim, and Joe, and Ann, Millie, and Jane.

I stopped, making John trip over himself a little. "Oh my God." I breathed. "John,"

He raised an eyebrow, scrunching up his nose at me. "Huh?" It must've seemed strange to him.

"I remember where I know Paul from," I grinned excitedly. John looked more and more confused, each word I spoke. "We're _cousins_!"

John gazed at me with a blank expression. "Erm... You and Paul... Cousins?" He closed his eyes as if he was trying to comprehend this. "Should we tell him?"

I shook his arm wildly. "Yes!" It felt so nice, finally, somebody I could talk to in this bloody city!

John had taken me to the McCartney home, a ways from either Julia or Mimi's houses, knocking on the door. I had the time to explain a little more of what the situation was, but John still didn't understand it much.

James, Jim opened the door. "Can I help you? Oh. Hello, _John_." He seemed a bit disgruntled at John, like he didn't like Paul hanging around with him. Uncle Jim, as I should say looked at me funny. He seemed to recognize me as well. "Who might you be?"

I ran a hand through my hair, smiling uncontrollably. "Oh, goodness. This is brilliant. Can you bring Paul down, please?" Uncle Jim narrowed his eyes but called for Paul, who came downstairs swiftly.

"Ay, John, mate. You too, Roxanne." He clapped hands with John before grinning at me. I couldn't stop smiling, it felt intoxicating how excited I was by this.

John poked me. "Roxanne's got something to tell you, I hear."

"Paul! It's me, Heather!" I grasped his wrists. Jim and Mary McCartney were the only ones of Mum's siblings to stay after the funeral for a few days, the rest left. I had never met Paul before, but he and Mike, his brother, and Alice and I got along very well, and were very good friends for the time we were together. The four of them had stayed with Grandmother and us for a few days, until returning to Liverpool.

His eyes lit up, mouth opening. "Heather? _Cousin_ Heather?" Paul echoed. "Hell, it _is_!" He turned around and shouted into the house. "Dad! Mike! It's Heather! She's moved to Liverpool!" Paul's grin was much wider than before.

I looked over his shoulder as Mike came practically tumbling down the stairs. "Is Aunt Mary here?"

Paul's face fell. "She, erm, actually passed away last year." I stopped, my hands in midair.

"Aunt Mary?"

He wiped his eye with his palm. "Cancer. I guess I'm halfway in your situation, yeah?" I hesitated before hugging Paul tightly. "I still can't believe it's you," He murmured as Uncle Jim and Mike came into the doorway. I had no idea what John was doing, but if he had left I could always ask Paul for directions back.

"I'll be, Heather." Uncle Jim smiled. It was wonderful to hear my first name again. Roxanne was getting old, quick, but I couldn't do much about it. "We're so glad you're here. How is Liverpool treating you?"

They led me inside to a sitting room, where pictures of Aunt Mary were all over the place. I felt a great deal of sadness because of her absence. John apparently had left, which made me a deal agitated. I had stayed for his visit with his mother, why couldn't he stay here? "I'm so sorry about Aunt Mary."

"We're trying to keep that private," Uncle Jim replied solemnly. "Mike? Have you got anything to say?"

He had been staring at me until now. "Yes, Heather, I'm happy you've moved here- The lot of our cousins are mostly blokes, you were Paul and I's favourite one." I grinned as Paul nodded in agreement. "Though I do wish Mum was back."

Uncle Jim placed his arm around Mike's shoulders sadly. "We can't bring her back, Michael. All we can do is remember her dearly." I stayed sitting, my hands folded in my lap. "Has that Lennon boy left?" He looked around me, and I shrugged. I hadn't any idea why John didn't come inside. Paul and I were his friends. Was he jealous? Or was it Uncle Jim? The latter seemed much more likely- it was rather selfish of me to think John would be jealous of- or over me when it came to Paul, who had just then nodded. "Good. Now, Heather, darling, it'd be in your best interests to not associate with him, he's trouble if I've ever known it." Paul glanced at me helplessly. "I already don't like Paul hanging around with him, but who's to stop the lad from living his life? Only his mother could stop him from these sort of things, 'innit right, Paulie?" His son nodded again.

I had stayed for probably another hour, before asking for directions then heading back off to Menlove.

Elaine greeted me when I had walked in, and I waved, but headed upstairs straight away. I pulled out the photo album yet again, flipping to the back. Nobody had really taken any pictures of the funeral, except Alice, who had taken some of us and all the cousins, and Grandmother, who had photographed the McCartney side of the family, as well as the Eaton, which was much more somber, I noted. They had compiled those last few pictures at the end of the book, a sad ending to their somewhat story. Nevertheless, there he was with Mike, Alice and I. Paul. This was actually wonderful. I'm sure they wouldn't report me to the police, we were family, and Paul would know how I felt.

It was already late, so I didn't feel like going to find out why John didn't stay when I had gone to Paul's. It was rather impish, honestly. I hung around for his mother's bloody ' _praise John_ ' party or whatever it was, why couldn't he stay to visit his friend?

I looked back at the picture of Paul and I beside each other. We did look alike, having the same facial structure and eyes shape, but we had different noses and mouths. My lips were longer and thinner than his. Glancing at Alice, I then decided to call her, so I headed back downstairs.

-

"You telephoning that sister of yours again?" Elaine asked the moment I picked up the phone.

I could feel my stomach churning. "Yes, might as well get it in while I can, yeah?"

Elaine hummed impatiently. "I suppose."

"Hello, Alice?"

"Oh. Heather. Hello." Alice's voice came as a drawl. It made me uncomfortable. Why did she hate me all of the sudden? She was supporting my choice to leave just weeks ago! "It's been awhile since you called."

My hands grew clammy as they held the telephone. "Y-yes, I'm sorry. I was just so busy the last few days and I-"

"I know. Just end this little game you're playing and come home."

"What?"

Alice sighed from the other end.

I looked to see if Elaine was nearby, then turned towards a corner, talking in a hush. "Alice- Cousin Paul and Mike- I've found them. Uncle Jim too!"

She stopped, and for once, her mood was lighter. "Really? How are they all? How about Aunt Mary? Oh, goodness, that's brilliant." There was a pause. "I'm a little more comfortable with you living there, now that I know there's family. But, still, Heather, really!" Her voiced dropped back to her serious tone.

"Aunt Mary's dead."

"She's-?"

"Paul told me. Cancer." Elaine then rounded the corner, staring daggers at me. I waved to her rigidly until she walked away again, my stomach churning. "Look, I'll send you letter from now on. Elaine- I've told you about her, correct? Well, she doesn't fancy me talking to you much."

I could practically see Alice pinching the bridge of her nose. "Yes, okay. You send the first one, then. I haven't the slightest clue where you're living."

"Great. Love you!"

"You too." Alice murmured, then hung up.

-

_I was sitting on a chair, a cushioned, fluffy, warm chair, that I could practically sink into. Everything around me was dark, so I just snuggled deeper into the cushion._

 _Then, two other seats slowly appeared in front of me, one person sitting in each. On the left, was John. His legs were crossed and he grinned at me, wiggling his eyebrows. I didn't recognize the boy in the other chair. His hair was in a quiff, clad in the cutest red sweater. He had high cheekbones, a thin face, bushy eyebrows, and large, brown eyes. He was sitting rigidly in the chair, his hands folded in his lap._

 _I stared at them, and they stared at me back for what felt like an hour before they spoke in unison. "So? Who's it gonna be?"_

I woke up with a start, my breathing stilted. Dreams, strange as that, had plagued my sleep ever since I had moved to Liverpool. Maybe there was something in the water, but I had never dreamt so vividly in Bristol, ever. They always ended with me waking up in the middle of the night, where I spent restless hours procrastinating until the sun peeked over the horizon.

Since Paul and Mike and I had reunited, I had visited a few more times before Paul came over to Elaine's, as John was also over. "Oh, hey, gear!" Paul said cheerfully as I opened the door with John behind me, who grunted. "Great to see you outside of a practice, yeah?" He smiled at John. I glanced over my shoulder. He was reminding me of Alice, in the fact that I had no idea why he was acting that way. I wished I could know why people do what they do. Why they think in such a way.

Blowing the thought away, I turned back to Paul. "I've got to show you my room, it's much better than the one in Bristol!" I tugged his sleeve.

"Yes," He replied excitedly. "That one was rather small, wasn't it?" I nodded before heading off to hop up the stairs, letting Paul and John trail behind me. Opening my door, Paul scurried in, inspecting every nook and cranny in the entire room as John stood rigidly in the doorway, arms crossed.

He stopped me just as I was going get the photo album to show Paul. "Are you two actually cousins or what?" John stared at Paul. "He takes a real liking to you, a little more than cousins, yeah? Makes me a trifle uncomfortable."

I scrunched up my nose. "What, are you jealous or something?"

John looked away, his face turning a little red. "No, I'm just concerned." I scoffed then headed off to pull the album out of my drawers.

"Is that what I think it is?" Paul grinned as we flipped through the book. Mum had even incorporated some pictures of our families, but it was mostly those on the McCartney side. "Yes! Ah, Mum. Hey, we don't have this photo at home, mind if I borrow it for a while?" The picture was of Mike and him as children out in a field beside Aunt Mary. I nodded, carefully pulling it out of the page.

I handed it to him. "Here, take it. No need to give it back." Paul held it gingerly.

"Thanks!"

John cussed sharply as a string on his guitar broke. He had agitatedly been tuning it, and apparently had tightened it too much. "Fucking shit." We glanced at him, and his face turned red. "It doesn't matter, go back to your photos." He then snapped when we looked up.

I shrugged, turning a page. It was of Alice and I with Grandfather and Grandmother, who surprisingly, was smiling. It was odd. I hadn't seen her smiling in years. My sister and I were in matching jumpers, bows neatly in our hair, though Alice's were a tad ruffled. She had been quite the animal when we were younger. I snorted softly at the thought. Grandfather was in a tweed jacket, and Grandmother in the same overcoat she'd been wearing for years now. I supposed it reminded her of Grandfather. Would I turn out like that? Widowed, stuck with my granddaughter and all I had to remind myself of my husband was a coat. I shuddered. That would be a miserable life. "So you were living with her up until recently?" Paul asked, poking the photograph. I nodded, my eyes catching on Alice's arm linked around mine. We were so close. "What about Alice?"

I paused, then glanced over at Paul beside me on my bed. "Oh... Alice?" I said slowly as John kept agitatedly plucking at his guitar strings. "She, uh... She moved out, too, a couple years ago, but she's still in Bristol."

"Shame," Paul breathed as he stretched before flipping to the next page. "I'd have loved to speak to her again as well. You're the biggest relief I've had in awhile, though, Heather." He smiled at me and John snorted loudly. I couldn't help but glance at him before turning back to my cousin.

I clapped my hand on his shoulder. "I know. Me too. I don't know how long I would've lasted here without knowing you were around." Paul pulled me into a tight hug, and I felt safer than I have in ages.


	6. Chapter 6

"You're kicking me out?" Pete echoed, Pheobe latched onto his arm. "What the _fuck_ , mate?" I stared at John, who was standing across from him with his arms crossed, eyebrows furrowed angrily. Paul, Eric, Colin, and a new boy that had started hanging around with us, Stuart Sutcliffe, as well as Ivan stood behind John.

John snorted. "That bird of yours. Pheobe, yeah?" Her head shot up, hair bouncing along with it. "She's a burden. She's pulling you down, we all need you to carry your fucking weight, and she's not helping." Paul then glanced at John as if he didn't know that was what he was going to say. "Break up with her, or you're out of the band."

Pete looked at John, then at Pheobe, then me, before his lip curled in contempt. "So you kick me out, yet she-" he pointed at me. "Can follow you around everywhere, and nobody does anything?" I gazed worriedly at him.

"Don't be a git. Roxanne's not a twat like your bird here. If you want to stay in the band, get rid of her." Pete opened his mouth to protest before John cut him off. "This is my band, these are my fucking rules." I wrung my hands and stepped closer to Paul, feeling uneasy from Pheobe's hard stare, boring into me.

Shotton glared at the small group of us, then snagged Pheobe's arm. "Come 'ead, P." He snarled then stomped off from outside Eric Griffith's home, which we then entered, except for me, as I felt terribly guilty about myself.

"Aren't you coming in?" Paul asked, turning around and staring at me.

I shook my head slowly, shoving my hands in my pockets. "I... I think I should maybe leave."

He shook his head, trying to lead me through the door. "Rubbish! Pete was just angry."

Pulling my hand out of his grip, I began walking away. "I don't care. I'm going home." I didn't want to make people cross with me or John because I was hanging around. Besides, I already saw him plenty enough, and could go visit Paul at any time. I'd start coming again, maybe, when I was closer with Eric, Ivan, Len, and Colin.

Paul gazed at me worriedly. "Now we need someone else for washboard," John said from inside, running his hands through his hair.

"We shouldn't have kicked him out," Eric replied.

"His girlfriend was a cunt and we all know it!" John snapped defensively, and I heard Colin sigh. I continued walking off, heading back home on foot.

Elaine was out when I had returned home, presumably working. My room was untidy in the meantime, so I cleaned it, as well as a good chunk of the rest of the house before there was a loud knocking on the front door.

I opened to Paul, who was standing on the doorstep, squirming as if he had somewhere to go in a hurry. "Paul?" There was a boy behind him I'd never seen before.

"Yes- Hi- John's a trifle angry right now, since we haven't many members left, and I thought I might as well introduce him to Stu here." He motioned behind him at the boy, who was clad in leather like the rest of them, had his dark hair in a slight quiff, and dark sunglasses on. Stu lifted up a guitar case and grinned at me. I leant against the doorway, eyeing him. "So, I thought, that if you came along, John would be less angry, since he seems to be rather happier when you're around."

Grinning, my hand brushed absentmindedly along my sweater. "Is that so?" I straightened up. "I'll come, then."

We came back to Eric Griffith's house, where John and the others had been hanging around for most of the day. I could hear John pacing angrily from the front entrance.

"We've got no fucking washboard-" He stomped back and forth as Colin, Eric, and Len stood around silently. "Nothing!"

Len slammed a table with his hand. "John!" He exclaimed. "Get over yourself already and learn how to realize you were wrong and shouldn't have kicked Shotton out!" John stopped, turning around to stare down Len, before picking up Pete's washboard.

"My band. My fucking rules." He swung the board over his shoulder, then hit Len over the head with it, breaking it in the process. I gasped as Paul ran in and restrained John, and I rushed to Len, helping him back up as Stu still stood in the hallway, unsure of what to do.

"What the hell, John?" Colin shouted. Len held his head, groaning.

He grasped onto my arms as he struggled up. "...Roxanne?" I heard John say behind me. I turned to glare at him. "I thought you left," he said softly.

Frowning as Len got to his feet, I scrunched my nose up at John. "Why would you do that?" I asked, barely willing to give him a chance.

"He- Len said-" John was clenching his fists, and I brushed him off.

"I thought you were a good person." I drawled. "Apparently not." Glancing at Len, I patted his shoulder. "Are you okay to stand yourself?" He nodded, and I took one more peek at John before storming out.

"I didn't mean for you to see me like this," I barely heard him say as I left.

"John's here to see you!" Elaine called from downstairs. I got off my bed and opened my bedroom door so he could hear me.

"Tell him I don't care." I called back.

But of course, a few minutes later, my door opened and John stepped in, brushing his hair back. "Hello," he greeted me. I glared up at him, feeling betrayed as he had attacked Len for no reason. I hoped he was alright... "Look, I'm sorry, Roxanne. The Quarrymen get me fed up sometimes." I snorted, crossing my arms. "I.. I don't think when I'm mad."

"Obviously." I retorted, looking away from him.

"Why are you so pissy about this?" He asked, closing the door. "I didn't hit you over the head." My bed creaked as he sat beside me.

I shook my head angrily. How full of himself was he? The self-righteous prick thought he hadn't done anything wrong. He kicked Pete out, hurt Len, and showed me he was truly terrible, and his niceness was just a show put on for me. He was going to lure me in, then be awful once I was trapped.

"Roxanne?" He reached out and grasped my shoulder. I pulled my arm away.

"Don't call me that," I hissed. I was Heather. Nothing else. That was my name, and I was tired of not hearing it. "And don't touch me."

John sighed slowly. "Please, R- just look at me." I felt his fingers curl around my chin and turn my head towards his, and my face flushed. I didn't realize how much I really was attracted to him until now. I couldn't think that way, though. I didn't want to. "I'm sorry, okay?" He stared at me before his eyes flicked between me and my lips. Oh, God. I'd read about this. "I'm sorry, Roxanne, Heather, whatever you want to be called." He repeated.

"Stop already, John." I turned back to look out my window, although his voice echoed in my head. "Give it a rest."

I peered back at him to see his lips pressed together crossly. "Fine. Just let me do this." I froze as he pressed his lips against mine softly. They were firm, but welcoming and though I hated to admit this at the time, I embraced him deeply. A few seconds passed before he pulled away. "I'll see you around." He got up, leaving my room.

My fingers touched my lips as I sat cross-legged on my bed, staring absently at the door. John had just kissed me. I cleared my throat, hands shaky as I pushed some hair out of my eyes. It was breathtaking, ignoring how short it was. His lips were so warm. I'd never been kissed by a boy before. I could feel my heartbeat thumping in my chest, and wondered if John felt the same.

The next few days were slightly awkward around each other, though John seemed to be marginally touchy with me, as I found the odd arm around my waist or shoulders, or hand in my hair, which I wasn't exactly a fan of.

Elaine had been speaking to Mimi about my schooling, and I had been talking about it to Paul, who said that going to Quarry Bank was my best bet, along with the fact that we could be together more. I didn't want to go to any rubbish schools, anyways.

Stu, or Stuart Sutcliffe had joined the band as the new bass guitar player, although he wasn't the greatest at it, as Len had left the band soon after the altercation with the washboard. I didn't blame him.

The term was to begin in just over a week, and I was terribly nervous. I had been enrolled in Quarry Bank, fortunately to the aid of Paul and Uncle Jim. We had even coordinated some of our classes.

I was both excited and scared for this new school in a new city. How different would the teaching be from Bristol?

Me being me, I was exceptionally nervous that I wouldn't do well in school here. And that I wouldn't make any friends. It was all the much too stressful. My frustrations with John didn't help much, either.

Thinking back to what Pheobe had asked me nearly a month ago, 'Are you hanging around for a few good shags before you find somebody else?' I then wondered if that was John's motive. If so, he was a bastard. He knew I was barely fifteen.

Then again, I thought, staring at my copy of 'The Last of the Wine' sitting on one of my bookshelves. Could he really be all that bad?

John had mentioned a book store not too far from here, on Southdale Road. It was called J & M Books, which sounded friendly enough. I decided to drop by, to pick out a few more books with some pocket money I had been given by Uncle Jim.

A bell chimed as I slowly stepped in, finding it nearly empty, except for the clerk and one girl in the corner, as well as a boy with his dark hair in a quiff. He had high cheekbones, a thin face, and bushy eyebrows. I had seen him from somewhere, but it wasn't the same feeling that I had gotten from Paul. The boy then looked up and stared back at me before his eyes widened and he seemed suddenly flustered, turning away, his cheeks rather red.

I shrugged, strolling away to lose myself in the shelves upon shelves of books lining the store.

There was just too many that I hadn't seen around Bristol's many bookstores, even a section with American books. I didn't have nearly enough to buy all the great things in this store. I turned, and my eyes fell on a novel that I had been seeking out for years.

Lord of the Flies, the dystopian epic by William Golding. I supposed I was too excited by seeing it, and gasped loudly. I spotted the same boy from before lean over from the next aisle, staring at me. I grinned sheepishly at him and he smirked in return, raising an eyebrow before returning to the other aisle.

I gazed back at the book, which I now noticed was trembling in my hands. Quite embarrassing, if you were to ask me. I was just so excited by the fact that I was holding Lord of the Flies in my hands, a book that Grandmother banned me from reading or buying, for some rubbish reason of 'it filling my mind with evil'. My fingers dragged along Anthony Gross' wonderful cover illustrations. It had gone out of print two years ago, before I could sneak a copy into the house. I hugged it to my chest, walking out of the aisles before I was stopped by the boy.

He smiled at me shyly, pointing at my book. "Is- is that Lord of the Flies?" I nodded, holding it up. "Great book. Hear it from me, I bought a copy while they were still in print."

"Really?" I gasped, staring at him. "I wouldn't have been able to myself, even if I tried!" He grinned, seeming rather proud of himself.

The boy laughed, leaning against a shelf as if he was trying to look casual, though he seemed quite stiff while doing it. "Gear. I'm George, by the way." He held out his hand. I glanced down at it before shaking it heartily, smiling at him.

"...Heather."

He had followed me to the till, where I paid for the book quite ecstatically. George then followed me outside as I began walking off. "Oh, well. It was nice meeting you, Heather." He said to me, flustered. "Maybe I'll... See you around?"

I nodded. "Of course. See you around." I called over my shoulder, giving George a small wave.

Quietly sitting beside John in Mimi's parlour while she and Elaine chatted, he ran his hands through my hair. Pressing my lips together, I turned to John, feeling a trifle concerned. "...John?" I said under my breath, putting Lord of the Flies down. "Are you okay?"

He sighed softly, staring at me with half-open eyelids. "Mmm.. Yeah." I shifted uncomfortably, glancing back at Mimi and Elaine self-consciously as he wrapped an arm around my waist. I hadn't any idea why he was suddenly being so platonic with me. One simple kiss couldn't change that. I wondered if he even remembered.

Meanwhile, Elaine and Mimi kept talking about work and such. I lifted my book again, continuing on.

 _"Piggy appeared again, sat on the rocky ledge, and watched Ralph's green and white body enviously.  
'You can't half swim.'  
'Piggy.'  
Piggy took off his shoes and socks, ranged them carefully on the ledge, and tested the water with one toe.  
'It's hot!'  
'What did you expect?'  
'I didn't expect nothing. My auntie-'  
'Sucks to your auntie!'"_

I placed my book down again as John's hand reached around my shoulder. I hated this feeling, I truly did. I didn't want to cherish his touch, I didn't want to see his face and be happy, I didn't want to crave that same feeling of his lips on my own. I wanted to despise John. I wanted to hate everyone so I could be alone and be myself, alone.

I found solitude to be blissful. I wanted to live alone, my own space, but I really couldn't do that when I wanted John in such a platonic way. I had never felt that way about anyone before.

And honestly, it made me sick to my stomach. Did he even feel the same way about me?

My mind swirled with my personal doubts and paranoia as I began to feel John's breath on my neck. "What's that you're reading?" I jumped a little, turning back around to him.

"L-L-Lord of the Flies." I stuttered, my eyes subconsciously flicking around his face. John grinned and made a small laughing noise. Dear Lord, I wouldn't be able to not stare at him when he gave me looks like that. Thankfully, burying feelings down was something I was good at. Although I didn't know exactly why I didn't want to get into something with John. It must be leftover 'conditioning' thanks to Grandmother.

John's arm hugged me closer to him, and I felt a jolt in my stomach. Maybe this wouldn't be as easy to hide. "Gear." He said. "Do you want to go upstairs or something? It's a fucking bore down here." He whispered into my ear.

I nodded quickly and we got up, climbing the stairs without another word. He swore a lot, in fact, like a sailor. That was a flaw. I was trying to list off any to give myself reasons not to like him, although they were all mostly backfiring on me. The fact that he cussed didn't really effect me either, as my cleanliness of language had declined since I had left the county limits of Bristol.

He closed the door behind him. I still lugged my copy of Lord of the Flies, hugging it tightly to my chest. "Good book, is it?" I glanced down at it, then gave him a shy nod. I'm not sure why I was suddenly so nervous around him. "Huh. Well, I wanted to practice, and Mimi hates me using the guitar."

"I don't think she exactly hates it-" I tried correcting him.

"Trust me. She does." His confidence in everything he said was completely arrogant, but it probably was a comfort thing for him, in a sick sort of way.

I rubbed my forearms as he pulled his guitar out of its case, sitting on a chair as I dropped onto his bed, turning back to my book. I heard strums for a few minutes before he spoke again. "We barely know anything about each other, still." My stomach fluttered.

"I guess." I murmured, mentally saving my page.

"So, what's your favourite... Musician?"

I grinned, brushing my hair back. "Oh, well, I used to really like Buddy Holly- not that I don't anymore, but Elaine introduced me to Elvis Presley, who's absolutely brilliant!" I gushed. John laughed, plucking a guitar string.

"Okay, your turn."

My stomach churned. Would I rather ask him something sinfully personal, or another generic, cheesy question? I decided to go with my gut and take a chance.

"Why did you kiss me?" I asked. It wasn't exactly a good question, although I needed to know. Was a quick shag all John wanted out of me? Or was there something more?

He laughed again, nervously this time as he ran a hand through his hair. "I..."


	7. Chapter 7

"I... I don't know." John finally said, gazing at me.

"You've certainly got to have a better reason than that." I huffed, crossing my arms.

"Well, I don't." He grimaced, glancing away from me before looking back discretely. "Did you... Like it, at least?" He grinned sheepishly, raising his eyebrows.

I felt myself blush madly. I wanted to hide my face, hit something, but I couldn't. "...Yes." I muttered, angry at myself for admitting that to his face.

John leant back, strumming another sharp chord. "Gear." He hummed. I brushed my hair away from my eye, giving him an embarrassed glare. "Wha'?" He asked, puckering his lips a tad like Elvis. I couldn't help but let out a light laugh.

He got up, sitting on his bed beside me, leaning in before starting to play a song.

 _"That'll be the day, when you say goodbye_  
 _Yes, that'll be the day, when you make me cry_  
 _You say you gonna leave you know it's a lie 'cause_  
 _That'll be the day, when I die_

 _Well give me all your lovin' and your turtle dovin'_  
 _All your hugs and kisses and your money too_  
 _Well you know you love me baby, still here ya tell me baby_  
 _That some day well I'll be true_

 _Well that'll be the day, when you say goodbye_  
 _Yes that'll be the day, when you make me cry_  
 _You say you gonna leave you know it's a lie 'cause_  
 _That'll be the day, when I die_

 _Well that'll be the day, when you say goodbye_  
 _Yes that'll be the day, when you make me cry_  
 _You say you gonna leave you know it's a lie 'cause_  
 _That'll be the day, when I die_

 _Well when Cupid shot his dart, he shot it at your heart_  
 _So if we ever part, then I'll leave you_  
 _You sit and hold me and you tell me boldly_  
 _That some day well I'll be true_

 _Well that'll be the day, when you say goodbye_  
 _Yes that'll be the day, when you make me cry_  
 _You say you gonna leave you know it's a lie 'cause_  
 _That'll be the day, when I die_

 _Well that'll be the day,"_

My stomach twisted as I forced a smile at him. "Was that Buddy Holly?" He was terrific, John's voice was just so dreamy, and he never broke eye contact with me as he sang. It made me feel as if I were about to melt.

"You guessed right, love. Did ya like it?" He asked, placing the guitar down on the bed. I nodded enthusiastically, clapping my hands quietly. I had been watching his fingers moving around the fretboard with expertise, every so often my mind wandering to wonder what dirty things he could do with those fingers. "Cool." John murmured, placing a hand on my thigh. "So what do you want to do now?"

Kiss! Kiss! My mind shouted, although I stayed quiet. "I dunno," I shrugged, smiling at him. "How about we just talk?"

John's hand retracted from my leg. "Right, talk."

~ ~ ~

My schoolbag had been all packed, ready for whatever Quarry Bank had to shoot at me the next day.

Clothes were laid out, draped over a chair. I had gone with Elaine to get my uniform the day before, and honestly, I fancied the one I had in Bristol better.

On my desk sat a small notebook John had given me that he had filled with some of his favourite poetry. "I left you a few blank pages just in case you were feeling creative," he winked as he handed it to me. I laughed, looking at the cover. He had made a little doodle of himself, giving a thumbs-up. 'Johnny's Poetry Collection'.

"I copied most of it out of other collections, so it's a collection of collections." He laughed. "I did write a few, so I'm not a total bloke."

Giggling, I took the book. "Thanks a lot for this," I murmured, holding it gingerly. "It means a lot, really."

John gazed at me sheepishly. "I hope it does, or else it would've been a waste of me drawing my pretty face on there." He poked it. "I drew it on there 'specially for you, in case you forgot what I looked like while at school."

"I'm sure I won't," I reassured him jokingly, "You're hard to forget."

"I know."

I slipped the book back into my bag, making sure it wouldn't bend on anything. I wanted to take a look at it, but I didn't want to rush through the poems before I had even gotten to Quarry Bank.

I was considerably nervous as I slipped into bed, so many things rushing through my mind that I had forgotten to write anything to Alice.

~ ~ ~

"This is the big day, is it not?" John nudged me teasingly as we waited at the bus stop, a few other people nearby. "Your first day of school in good ol' Liddypool." I nodded at him nervously. "Don't fret, Johnny'll watch out for ya."

I shrugged a little, hugging a textbook closer to my chest. "I.. It doesn't really matter to me, I'll be doing things with Paul, mostly, since we're in the same year and all."

John frowned, growing rigid. "Yes, I s'pose so." He said through gritted teeth, making me feel a bit uncomfortable.

A few stops later, Paul got on, and I waved enthusiastically at him. He was grinning from ear to ear as he sat down, a few rows and across the aisle from us.

John leant over to me. "Are you sure you two aren't just shagging each other or something? Because you're all touchy and shit with him." He whispered agitatedly, and I recoiled away.

"What the fuck? No! Of course not. Y-y'know what?" I got up angrily, my hands clenching the seats ahead for stability just in case, and sat down beside Paul, sending a quick glare to John.

"Hello, Heather!" He greeted me, smiling. "Are you excited?" I nodded, wringing my hands in my lap. "I'll help you around the school, I'm sure you'll find lots of mates for yourself, so you won't need me for long." Paul went on, eyes bright before he leant over, staring behind me. "Erm.. What's John's problem?"

I turned around to find John glaring daggers at me. "I'm not sure." The bus was stopped, so right after I had turned somebody I didn't know sat beside John, talking to him. "Looks rather sour."

Paul nodded softly. "I'll introduce you to my mates, I'm sure you'll all get along well." I smiled at him, hoping I would make some friends.

He followed me off the bus, other people coming swimming out also. "Since you already know all of the guys in the Quarrymen, the only other person not in our year would be George Harrison."

I glanced up. "George? Does he have dark hair?" Maybe he was talking about the same boy I had met in J&M Books.

Paul grinned. "And he's kind of tall for his age?" He continued, both of us walking into the school for our first classes.

"I met him a week or so ago, in the bookstore on Southdale?"

"Yeah, I could see that. The lad's a nerd in that way." My cousin smirked at me and I sniggered. "To be honest, though, he's really good at guitar. I've been trying to get John to let him audition, but he keeps going on about George's age."

I huffed, throwing some books into a locker that had been assigned to me two days beforehand. There had been an orientation Paul had come along with me to, where they showed us around Quarry Bank and such. Most of them were in the ninth year, though, so I didn't bother trying to make any friends.

"English, 2D." Paul read his timetable. "What about you?" He looked up. I nodded, showing him my slip of paper. "Gear," he grinned.

~ ~ ~

"I am Stuart Pot, an English major from the University of London. I expect to be called nothing less than Mr. Pot, or Sir. There is no 'mate', no 'toff', 'chap', 'bugger', whatever words you skives use. English is an art, so, let's see you take your slang, and throw it out the window." I glanced over at Paul, who was staring unblinkingly at Mr. Pot.

"Now, I would like you to write down every slang word you know. Every word that feels dirty to your mouth, like it is an insult to our wonderful language. Be they curses, even. Then we will crumple up our papers, and set them aflame, cleansing ourselves of these rubbish words to use English as what it was intended, an art."

The paper was slid onto my table and my pencil shook in my hand. I had been given so much power. Writing cusses in class? It felt wonderful. Paul was already scribbling away, as well as another boy sitting at the table with us.

I delved into my work and soon after, Mr. Pot had set mine and Paul's sheets ablaze. "I do feel cleaner," He murmured to me, eyes still fixated on the flames. "John told me Pot was insane, but he's absolutely genius."

"Yeah," I sighed, propping my head up with my elbow. "If I could spend a whole day in this classroom instead of going to the other classes, I'd be content with coming to school."

The bell rang, and Paul and I were about to get up to leave before Mr. Pot called us to his desk. "You two. Eaton and McCartney. On your papers, I found the filthiest, most wretched words I had ever seen in my life. If you can think up that lot of negativity, I am sure there is much potential for positivity from you two. Do not let me down."

Paul nudged my elbow excitedly as we walked out of the room. "Y' hear that? He likes us!"

I laughed, toting my textbook. "Yes!"

He leant towards me. "Do you think we can cuss now?" I glanced behind me at the English 2D classroom, where people for the second period were already streaming in before nodding. "Pot's fucking brilliant!"

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but, I'm excited for my next English class." I replied as we made our ways down the hall. "Are all the teachers here like this?"

Paul snorted. "No."

"It's worth asking." I shrugged. "What've you got now?"

He looked at his timetable. "French 4B?"

I shook my head. "Chemistry 3C." Disappointed, I saw my own expression mirrored in Paul's.

"Shame. Either way, you know where the room is, right?"

Thankfully, the two classes were across the hall from each other. We exchanged waves before splitting for the morning.

~ ~ ~

I sat in between a girl I'd never seen before, and another boy who I thought I'd seen hanging around during one of the Quarrymen's practices in chemistry class as the teacher poked agitatedly at the chalkboard.

"You see?" He went on. "These formulas don't work. You cannot mix acids with cyanide solutions! You will die!" The teacher, Mr. Salinger, was a tad insane. "You also cannot mix ammonia with bleach! It will release toxic vapour- and what will happen?"

"You will die," droned the class.

"Precisely." Mr. Salinger retracted his telescoping pointer, putting it in his desk. "We have fifteen minutes left of this class. I would like three examples of solid oxidizers on my desk before then."

I glanced at the boy nervously. Solid oxidizers? I pulled out a paper quietly, before the girl next to me whispered "Iodates, nitrates, permanganates," into my ear.

I murmured a quiet 'thank you.' She got up, handing in her paper as I wrote down the answers. The girl smiled as she came back, pushing a pair of thick glasses up her nose. "Connie." She introduced herself, giving my hand a quaint shake before I handed my paper in myself.

"Roxanne," I replied, grinning. "How'd you know that?"

"Oh, my father works in a laboratory in London. He's a chemist, so I've learned a lot of stuff from him." She cracked her knuckles, zipping up her bag. "My sister told me Salinger's awful," she whispered, leaning closer to me. "I'm not sure, Vivian usually tended to have bad experiences with teachers." I smiled, glancing at the clock quickly. Only seven minutes left.

"I haven't seen you around here before, have you just moved?"

I nodded quickly. "Yes- from Bristol."

She snapped her fingers, grinning. "So that's where your accent's from! I knew I recognized it." Connie flashed me a toothy grin, pushing her glasses up yet again.

"Girls!" Mr. Salinger shouted from the front. "Just because you've finished before the rest of the class doesn't mean you may chat!" His Irish accent sounded funny when he yelled, making me refrain from laughing.

Connie's head drooped in shame. "S-Sorry, sir." I murmured. He huffed, returning to his book. I glanced at her helplessly as the bell sounded and students began filing out of the room.

~ ~ ~

The next fortnight of school went brilliantly, my grades were okay, I had made a few friends, Connie being one of them, and gotten closer with Paul. John came over still, and vice versa, though he often left out of annoyance because I was trying to focus on schoolwork.

There was one day, where John made me absolutely furious.

It was a normal class- History, which I had halfway through the afternoon with another one of my newfound friends, Lucille. Then, suddenly, the telephone rang and the teacher picked it up. "Mhm. Yes. Alright." He turned to me, and I felt incredibly nervous. Had I been found out? Was I being sent back to Bristol? "Roxanne. There's been a family emergency- your father wants you home immediately."

I froze. My father? Family emergency? My dad was bloody dead! "Yes sir." I gathered my books and left, taking a second to stand just beyond the doorway as it was closed behind me.

"Boo!" Someone's arms wrapped around me and I gasped, shoving them off me. John.

"What the fuck, John?" I shouted as he guided me away from the door. "Family emergency? My sodding dad? Why would you make up such bollocks?"

He snorted, leaning against a wall. "Well, I got bored honestly, so I wanted to get you out of class so we could have some fun."

"What the fuck?!" I repeated, exasperated. "Why would you-"

He pressed a finger to my lips. "Hush, just mellow out for once, will you?"

I glared at him, narrowing my eyes. John returned with a smirk, despite my obvious negativity. "And you're my father now, apparently?"

His eyes glinted and he wiggled his eyebrows. "No, but you could call me Daddy if you'd like."

Shoving him away, I stomped down the hallway. "Fuck you." Furious with John, I wanted to get as far away with him as I could. My father? He just had to say that?

"-Roxanne, wait," He grabbed my arm. I swung around, seething. "I'm sorry, okay? It's not such a big deal."

Ripping my forearm out of his grip, my anger had finally boiled over, and I absolutely exploded at him. "Not a big deal? You impersonated my father to pull me out of class! Do you know how much trouble that would get me in?"

It was true. If they had figured out I had no father at home, they would look into the fact that my father was not around. Then they would see my mother wasn't around either. Then it would be figured out that I was living in Liverpool illegally, and I would get deported back to Bristol to get starved and mistreated by Grandmother.

I was living under a false alias. That was already illegal enough. "I said I'm sorry, love, get over it! Nothing happened!" He retorted.

"Sorry does nothing. Fuck you." I spat and whirled around, making my way outside.

~ ~ ~

I still remember the day Mum and Dad didn't come home. It was a May evening in 1949. They'd gone out for a banquet held by Dad's company. I even remember the time they had left. The time the police came.

The lunch banquet was due to end around 5:30 in the evening. But once 8:00 rolled around, the doorbell rang. Alice had just gotten home from Lydia Thompson's house, she had just put away her helmet in our garage.

Are Mum and Dad home yet?" She asked. I shook my head. Alice was 3 years older than me, her 10 turning 11 and me being 7, turning 8 both later that year. She looked down at my paper. "What're you drawing?"

I pointed at the vase at the centre of our kitchen table and glanced up at her. "The flowers." I grinned before the doorbell went. "Is that Mum and Dad?" I asked, following Alice to the front door.

"But why wouldn't they just come in?" She asked rhetorically before opening it to find two men, about the same height and middle aged, standing in front of us. Both had coats on, they were definitely police officers. "Hello?"

The officer on the left nodded. "Good evening, girls. May we come in? We've some... Unpleasant news." Now, Mum had warned us not to let strangers in when they weren't home, but these men had badges. Alice stepped out of the way, pushing me behind her. The other man whispered something to the one that had spoken to us before they sat us down in Mum's parlour.

"We're from the police station not too far away from your home here." The other man said. He had a deep voice. "I'm Officer McGrath, but you two can call me Eddie, and this is Officer Boyd." He pointed out the other one who had spoken to us first. "Your parents went to a banquet, but they still haven't gotten home yet, correct?"

I piped up obliviously, though Alice had probably gotten the hint. "Yes, do you know where they are?"

They exchanged uneasy looks. "Erm, your parents. Your father didn't see another unnamed person ram into their car from the side." Alice gasped and I stopped. "They got hit into a lamp post. Your father.. He didn't make it. Your mother is barely still with us." She kept staring, her mouth open. I gazed between the two authorities, tears forming at my eyes. After a second, I burst into sobs, clutching onto Alice's arm. My father was dead.

"C-can we see her?" She asked between my cries, pulling her arm around my shoulder.

They nodded profusely. "Of course."

We were driven to the hospital, a car ride that made me extremely paranoid, then lead to a lonely room near the end of a hallway. I couldn't help but shiver at the moody scheme of it all, darkened windows and dreary paint choices. We passed one nurse on the way, who gave us a sad look.

Alice walked through, her head hanging, arms slagging. If otherwise, our father would never have let us move about with such negative body language. But he was gone now. The officers rapped lightly on the door, and a murmur allowed us inside.

Mum lay on a bed, a sort of chaotic peacefulness to her. Her eyes were shut, lips slightly pursed as always. Alice had to look away. I just kept staring, watching my mother, examining her like it was my last chance to do so, which, coincidentally, was. Her arms lay static at her sides, like she was positioned in such way, not that she had done it consciously, which made me feel sick.

The rhythmic beep of a heart monitor was the only thing somewhat comforting to me. "Can she hear us?" I asked Eddie McGrath, who stood nearby solemnly.

He nodded, but I supposed it was only for the sake of letting me and Alice speak to her for the last time. I let go of Alice and stood by my mother, and watched her chest rise and lower for a minute. "Hello, Mum." I said as my sister stepped up as well. "I just want you to know, that Alice and I love you very, very much, and we'd rather you not leave us," I wiped my face as tears began to well up. "Because we will miss you lots. We already miss Dad." Alice held my hand as Mum's heartbeat became inconsistent. At the time, I had thought at the time that it meant she was getting better, but we were quickly ushered out of the room.


	8. Chapter 8

"I can't believe you, John!" I paced around his room, feeling his eyes following me as he sat on his bed.

"We might as well do something together, since I got you out of school for that purpose," John muttered in a snarky manner, crossing his arms.

"No, no. You shut up for a second. Just shut the fuck up, alright?" I snapped, whirling around and pointing aggressively at him.

He threw his hands up defensively, growing angry. "I'm not sure what the bloody issue is here, Roxanne." I fucking hated when he called me Roxanne. I hate it when anyone calls me Roxanne.

"Can you not stay quiet?"

He bit his lip, glaring at me.

"Daft twat," I muttered, turning back around and running a hand through my hair. "You have no bloody idea how much trouble you could have gotten me in!"

John threw his hands out again, jaw agape like he couldn't believe pulling me out of class would get me in trouble. But, he didn't speak for once.

"They could have gotten me in so much fucking trouble!" I cried.

"-Why?" John shot back. "I've done this a bunch of times!"

I turned back around, glaring at him.

His eyes narrowed and he got up, grabbing my forearms. I stopped, gazing at him. "I don't care how you're 'going to get in trouble', but you didn't, and you won't."

Feeling my hands grow clammy, I shook my head quickly, glancing away from him. "Y-yes I will!" Wiping a tear away from my eye before he could see it.

I froze as John leant in, eyelids heavy with an emotion that I had never experienced before. Hand brushing my cheek, he kissed me. Standing with my eyes shut, I found his neck and wrapped my arms around it.

Seconds later, he had pulled away, staring at me for a moment before grinning. "A pretty bird like you shouldn't have to worry about these kind of things." He murmured.

Giving him an unsure nod was easy, but staying still as he pressed his lips lightly against my neck was not. "Okay, John." I'm still not sure why he was so good at making me calm down- but he did every time.

He let go of me, drifting away to look out his window. "How about we go to the Cavern?"

"Yeah, sure." I murmured, watching a car pass by. John stood stationary for a minute or so before swirling around, grabbing his leather jacket.

"Come 'ead if we're going, then!" He called over his shoulder. "We haven't all day!"

~ ~ ~

"What do you mean, we can't come in?" John shouted, getting in the bouncer's face. "We're perfectly in our right!" It was a different fellow from last time we had come here.

He was shoved away, into the wall. "I know you gits are both underage," he snarled. "Why don't you go piss off before I break your nose, kid?" It was a trifle rude, John's nose was a little on the long side.

I watched John clench his fists, staring up at the man. "John, you don't have to quarrel... We can just go-" I whispered, grabbing his arm.

"No, I'm going to get us in," He hissed back.

"You're not going anywhere near here," The bouncer cut in, shoving John away.

"You can't do that!" I huffed, stepping between them.

Rolling his eyes as he cracked his knuckles, the burly man sneered at me. "I can, darlin'."

"Alright, that's it." John stepped up, swinging his arm back and throwing a punch at the bouncer.

He took the hit like it was nothing, glaring down at John. "Wrong choice, bloke." He snarled, narrowing his eyes.

John glanced at his fist, then back at the man before grabbing my wrist. "You're really going to fight two children?" He asked, holding up my arm. "And a bird, at that?" I was slightly offended by that.

"Just let it go, John," I repeated, clenching his hand.

"Bugger off before I call the police."

John ran a hand through his hair, staring at the door of the Cavern before looking at me. I took the chance to begin dragging him off, gazing nervously at the angry bouncer. "I'm sorry, Roxanne." He sighed, not looking back at the man.

"What were you thinking? You could've gotten hurt!" I exclaimed, digging my fingers into his palm.

His brown eyes that I absolutely loved fixated on me. "I didn't mean to have that happen- I just wanted us to have some fun!"

"Getting into fights isn't fun, John!" I ran a hand through my hair, exhaling slowly. "Let's just go somewhere we'll legally be let in."

He nodded softly in agreement, still clutching onto my hand. It was a tad awkward, but I was perfectly happy with the gesture, smiling to myself a little. John then started digging in his pocket, producing a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. "Fancy a cig?"

~ ~ ~

The searing tip of the cigarette burnt into my arm as Grandmother slowly mashed the burning stick into the skin. I screamed in pain, writhing away. "Stop, Grandmum, that hurts!" I cried.

After a few more seconds, the cigarette was removed, though the burning sensation remained. "Maybe you'll think next time about smoking, then?" Grandmother shouted back. "It is the Devil's product!"

I glanced at my arm. The flesh was bright red- she must've burnt through my skin- and black around the edges. Grandmother seemed more like the Devil than anyone at that moment.

~ ~ ~

I rolled up my sleeve and glanced at the circular scar on my arm, wincing to myself before I gazed back at John. "Sure." I muttered, letting the fabric fall back to its original place.

"What's that?" John asked, referring to the burn scar.

Panicking a little, I brushed my hands off on my skirt. "N-nothing,"

He pressed his lips together, narrowing his eyes as he gave me the fag. I put it between my lips and he lit it.

~ ~ ~

We had ended up going to a few shops around the city, stopping by record shops, sweet shops, and a quaint little café- Cooper's Coffee Shop.

I had also smoked two more cigarettes in that time, whereas John had only one more. I really had been missing out on tobacco the past years of my life, though, so I needed to catch up. What could go wrong?

Puffing one of the fags as we strolled into a record shop, I glanced at a big display of Elvis singles: Jailhouse Rock, which had recently been released. How could I have forgotten? It had already been a few days. "Oh, John, look!" I tugged the sleeve of his leather jacket, even though he had probably already seen it. There was a huge Elvis cardboard cutout beside the stack of records.

I ran over to the cutout, touching Elvis' sweet, cardboard face. He was just so good looking.

Meanwhile, John had picked up one of the vinyls itself. "Funny we've already gotten so much stock right after they've been released in America," he commented.

"Haven't you heard?" The clerk sitting behind a register piped up. "They've started shipping here to the UK at the same time."

I stayed, swooning over the cutout. "Gear." He waved the cover. "Is it any good, then?"

"Of course it's good! It's Elvis Presley!" I shouted, offended. "Sorry, sir."

The man behind the counter gave John a weak smile, then went into a different room. I dug into my pockets for money, producing a pound to pay for it.

I gazed at the cutout again dreamily, Elvis' hair, eyes, nose, goodness, he was the whole package. I wondered if he was nice, as well.

Before walking to the counter, I caught John staring at the cardboard cutout as well before frantically fixing his hair and glancing at me. I giggled, placing the record down for later.

"Blimey," John muttered, holding up a 'Here's Little Richard' album. "I heard Ready Teddy on the radio months ago, but I could never find the whole album." He handed it to me.

I flipped it over, reading the song list. "Long Tall Sally?" I read aloud. "I bloody love Long Tall Sally." Glancing seriously at John, I whispered to him. "We should buy this."

He returned my gaze solemnly. "We should."

Extinguishing my cigarette in an ashtray on the glass countertop, John and I stood patiently waiting for the man to return, him holding Here's Little Richard and me clutching onto Jailhouse Rock for dear life.

"Is this all?" The man asked. His name tag read 'Clark.' We nodded. "That'll be £5.10, then."

The records were put neatly into a bag. "Ta," John called as we left.

~ ~ ~

 _The warden threw a party in the county jail._  
 _The prison band was there and they began to wail._  
 _The band was jumpin' and the joint began to swing._  
 _You should've heard those knocked out jailbirds sing._  
 _Let's rock, everybody, let's rock._  
 _Everybody in the whole cell block_  
 _was dancin' to the Jailhouse Rock._

 _Spider Murphy played the tenor saxophone,_  
 _Little Joe was blowin' on the slide trombone._  
 _The drummer boy from Illinois went crash, boom, bang,_  
 _the whole rhythm section was the Purple Gang._  
 _Let's rock, everybody, let's rock._  
 _Everybody in the whole cell block_  
 _was dancin' to the Jailhouse Rock._

 _Number forty-seven said to number three:_  
 _"You're the cutest jailbird I ever did see._  
 _I sure would be delighted with your company,_  
 _come on and do the Jailhouse Rock with me."_  
 _Let's rock, everybody, let's rock._  
 _Everybody in the whole cell block_  
 _was dancin' to the Jailhouse Rock._

 _The sad sack was a sittin' on a block of stone_  
 _way over in the corner weepin' all alone._  
 _The warden said, "Hey, buddy, don't you be no square._  
 _If you can't find a partner use a wooden chair."_  
 _Let's rock, everybody, let's rock._  
 _Everybody in the whole cell block_  
 _was dancin' to the Jailhouse Rock._

 _Shifty Henry said to Bugs, "For Heaven's sake,_  
 _no one's lookin', now's our chance to make a break."_  
 _Bugsy turned to Shifty and he said, "Nix nix,_  
 _I wanna stick around a while and get my kicks."_  
 _Let's rock, everybody, let's rock._  
 _Everybody in the whole cell block_  
 _was dancin' to the Jailhouse Rock._

I stared at the picture of Elvis on the single's cover as I bopped my head along to the music, lying on John's bed on my stomach with him beside me, listening more intently.

"That's the third time we've listened to this, can we put on Little Richard now, or at least the B-side?" John pleaded, growing annoyed with me repeating Jailhouse Rock over and over again.

"Just once more, please?" I begged John, turning to him.

He sighed, rolling his eyes. "After." He said, placing the record onto the turntable and taking off Jailhouse Rock. "You really should get your own record player."

I rolled onto my back, stretching. "Yes, but I like listening to stuff with you. I don't know if I'd even have enough money, anyways." I did, though, because of the £200 Jack had given me. But I wasn't about to say that.

John shrugged as he laid back down beside me, pecking me on the cheek. I felt my face turn red, and looked away from him as Ready Teddy began to play.

I had turned my ears off, so to speak, so I could focus on looking at Elvis again. "Ey, Roxanne," John had nudged me after a minute or so. "Are you even listening to me?"

Glancing at him nervously, my eyes shifted off to the side. "Er.. Yes, I... Um..."

"What'd I say, then?" He huffed, looking angrily at me.

"You... Were talking about..." I said slowly, trying to think of something, anything that he might say.

"Piss off," He pushed my shoulder lightly. "I was trying to talk to you about Julia, but you're too busy fuckin' gawking at Elvis." John snagged the album cover out of my hands and threw it away from the bed.

I gasped, watching it fly. "Hey!" I cried.

"Pay attention to me a little, won't you?" John murmured, fixing his hair quickly.

"Yes, but Elvis! New Elvis!" I exclaimed, looking at the album, now facing downwards to the floor. Poor guy.

He pressed his lips together. "Roxanne," John said through gritted teeth. "I'm right here. Where's Elvis?"

"On the floor," I huffed. "Ugh, you probably even scuffed the cover."

I moved up so I could go get the cover and fix it up. He snatched my shoulder. "John, just let me go get it!" His grasp became tighter. "Piss off, the thing's brand new!"

He kissed me and I stopped, letting him pull me closer to his body. It was intoxicating, and I was disgusted by myself. How could I let myself just be lost in someone like him? He was an absolute git; a wanker; and he was also kissing me roughly, rolling over on the bed so I was below him. I wanted to push him away, push him off me and run home. I didn't belong here, and I wanted to so desperately. I felt dangerous, being in Liverpool and all, but a little part of me missed Bristol.

"Roxanne," John gasped, pulling away from my lips as he breathed heavily onto me, which was slightly unsanitary if he had any diseases or bacteria upon him. "Bloody fuck,"

I felt my chest heaving as I silently stared up at him. His hands travelled up my sides and began lifting up my shirt. I let him, wrapping an arm around his neck. It ended up in a ring around my collarbone, and I glanced self consciously at John. "Maybe we shouldn't-" I stopped myself from talking as he kissed my neck. I subconsciously began unbuttoning his shirt as he tugged at my kilt.

Finally, my willpower returned and I shoved him off of me. "What the hell?" I demanded.

Just then, the door slammed loudly. "John Winston Lennon!" Mimi's voice shouted from downstairs.

"Shit," He sat up, running a hand through his hair as I fixed my clothing.

"Your middle name is Winston?" I snorted.

"Shut up." He simply replied as angry footsteps travelled up the stairs. He rushed to the window, opening it roughly. "Let's go." He helped me out first and I clutched onto the window ledge as my feet slipped a little on the shingles of the roof. Before he could get out, his door swung open just as I got out of the way.

"John Lennon!" Mimi repeated. "What exactly are you doing here?"

I heard him laugh. "I don't know what you're talking about!"

"Don't give me that, young man!" She scolded him. "I got a telephone call from Quarry Bank, and apparently you were given detention twice, but never showed up to said detentions!"

Shit. I didn't know that. "I didn't want to," John replied.

"It's not a 'want' thing, John! It's a must!" I heard a sharp step and then a quiet 'Ow!' from John. "We're going to that school and you're going to finish the detentions you owe!"

"No! What the fuck?" John complained, his voice farther away until the door to his room slammed.

I sat there, hair flipping in the wind as I clutched onto the shingles. After a few seconds I finally realized where I was and clambered back through the window just as the front door opened and Mimi walked out with John following begrudgingly.

I closed the window and it made a large noise. I jumped, cursing to myself. Both of their heads turned towards it, John's first. He motioned desperately for me to duck, mouthing it as well.

Stepping out of the way just as Mimi turned, I took a sharp breath before waiting a second to watch John get dragged away by the ear. He was glaring at me, and I felt a trifle guilty.

I faced John's small room, glancing around it, taking it in without him around before picking up the album cover and slipping Jailhouse Rock back into the record slip and leaving.

Paul was coming up the front walk just as I had closed the door behind me. "Oh, Heather!" He greeted. "John's still home, yeah?"

Without a word, I guided him up to the gate and pointed down the sidewalk at John and Mimi, who were still slightly visible down the long avenue. He was getting pulled by the arm now.

Stifling a laugh, my cousin turned back to me. "Y'know, I think the reason that my dad hates John so much is because he hasn't any parents harping at him all day. He's just some wild kid.  
Somehow that makes him a punk to my father. Honestly? I think John's just misunderstood, and a little lonely."

I nodded in agreement. Maybe John was just sad. He wasn't a bastard, it was more of a show, a mask. I know that's what I would do sometimes.

The more I thought about it, John and I seemed very alike. He too had lost his parents, maybe less tragically, but definitely more emotionally draining than I.

It was odd, how many parallels we had.

~ ~ ~

"Christ," John bitched, pacing back and forth along my floor. "They say I've got no hope going to college unless I fix my grades!" He ran a hand through his hair. "Fucking bollocks. I don't need to fix anything."

"Maybe you should fix your hair," I stifled a laugh. It was poking out in at least seven different directions, since he had ruffled it up.

He was about to crossly comment back at me before he stared at himself in the mirror across my room. "Yeah." John murmured. "But anyways, seriously! They're going on about me being a fuck-up."

"You're not a fuck-up," I echoed to make him feel better.

"I'm not a fuck-up!" He shouted. "I'm going to be bloody famous, and they're going to still be on their arses doing next to nothing!"

I placed my cigarette onto an ashtray John had bought me that I put on my bedside table. "Relax a little, John. I'm sure you'll make it big with the Quarrymen- you needn't get so frustrated."

"Mimi doesn't think so," he huffed, taking a drag of my cig before sitting beside me on my bed. "Fuck, Roxanne." John had said that in a trifle suggestive manner. I wondered what Elaine thought we were up to. "I'm so tired of it all,"

"Then go do something about it," I urged him.

He stood up abruptly. "You know what? I will." John announced, striding out of my room before stopping at the doorway. "Oh- and by the way, I saw that burn scar of yours yesterday."


	9. Chapter 9

"John, wake up!" I whispered, shaking his shoulder.

He groaned, rolling over, away from me.

"John!" I repeated, pulling the blankets off.

"What?" He huffed, turning back to squint at me in the sunlight filtering through the windows.

Since Mimi had gotten cross with him over something school related that I hadn't heard about completely, John had spent the night here at Elaine's, ultimately sleeping in the same bed as me, much to Elaine's dismay, though, nothing suggestive had gone on, partial to John's anger with Mimi, as well as my prude-like qualities.

"It's your birthday," I grinned, clapping his shoulder.

His already narrowed eyes squinted even more as he stared at me before sitting up, pushing the blankets off. "Shit, yeah, it is." John's eyes lit up. He seemed very suddenly alert, awake. "Thanks for letting me stay here." He crawled over me, pecking me on the cheek as he passed.

It was a little nice, the way he treated me as if we were an old couple, had known each other for years, a familiar thing. Even though all of this was completely foreign to me.

"Julia's holding me a party tonight, I'd love it if you came." He liked to ignore the fact that I despised Julia.

I smiled tightly, the fake kind of smile that you want to make sure recipient knows it's fake. "We'll see."

John hesitated at the door before giving me a small nod and ducking out.

I patted the sheets where he had been lying minutes beforehand, then got up, getting ready for the day.

~ ~ ~

I hadn't decided whether or not I'd go to Julia's party when noon came around, and John had been bothering me about it the entire day.

"I'll tell you when I've made up my mind!" I kept telling him, but he persisted on asking me over and over.

"Piss off already, won't you?" I shouted, finally cracking after about a constant hour of his barraging questions. "I won't even think about going if you keep asking!"

John had backed off after that. I decided I'd stay for half an hour then slip out when he was distracted.

"Gear! That's great! I was afraid you wouldn't come!" He exclaimed as I told him, making sure to keep out the part where I would slip out of the party after barely half an hour. "You make me real happy, Roxanne." John beamed, kissing me.

I laughed along, though I really didn't want to go. I was an introvert, there was no denying it. I'd rather spend my days alone, reading, listening to music, drawing, working. I wouldn't have even wanted go if for example Paul was holding the party. But I would be respectful, I'd never leave on Paul without saying anything.

"I bought you something, by the way," I grinned. "I've got to return the favour, yeah?"

"Ta, R." John said, taking the box I had handed to him. I hoped he would be surprised. I liked when he called me R, anyways. I felt cool. H sounded better though, but I'd never let him know.

He pulled out the leather jacket I had bought him- it was on sale, but I never mentioned that. There was some hair gel and other trinkets in the box underneath it, but he seemed quite invested in the jacket. "Brilliant!" He exclaimed, pulling off his current one and showing me a hole in the side. "Just what I needed, this one's getting rather ratty."

"Oh- gear-" I replied, smiling as he zipped up the new leather, grinning at me.

"So?" He turned around, looking at himself in the mirror.

"It looks nice,"

"And it fits bloody well, I'll definitely give you that."

Laughing, I picked up the side on his old jacket with the hole. "It's not that bad, I could probably fix it,"

John glanced at me for a moment. "There are things you can't fix, Roxanne."

I wasn't sure if he was trying to talk philosophically or something, but either way, it was sort of a spur of the moment thing, like, whoa, I don't even know what's going on right now. It was weird.

"Yes, but it's a small hole- you could easily stitch-"

"Roxanne," He repeated, sounding like my mother.

My mother.

I clutched my chest for a moment. Not a single day passed when I wished it was I in that accident instead of her and Dad.

A hand reached out, touching my shoulder lightly. "Are you alright?" I jumped, slapping it away.

"I'm bloody fine." I snapped, startled by my own sudden hostility. "Don't ask."

John narrowed his eyes. "Okay, then. I won't."

Thank God. I didn't want to be bothered by the things that have haunted me for eight years. I wanted to be at peace- as much as I could. The days where Mum and Dad would take me and Alice out with our matching boaters and we'd drive to the Bristol Channel to go to the shops on the pier.

I sighed out loud.

"Roxanne, you're acting really fuckin' weird. Is there something bothering you or-?" John spoke up again. I thought he had left.

"Fuck off, will you?" The morning had started off so well. I'd ruined it with my sour mood- all because of my reminiscing. I ruined everything. A huge fuck-up, that's what. "I'm sorry."

He gave me a weak smile and walked out, saying he had to go talk to Mimi. I groaned, falling back onto the bed.

A small knock on the doorframe made me lift my head, meeting Elaine's stare. "Has John gone back next door?" She asked.

I nodded before glancing at the floor. I was almost beginning to wonder if I should move back to Bristol, but I couldn't. I could never go back there. I guessed I'd never really belong anywhere.

~ ~ ~

Dim lights illuminated the front of Julia's home. "Mimi said she was just upset because she didn't want me seeing Julia." John laughed as we walked up to the door.

"Really?" I asked.

"Yeah, she's a real pain in the arse when it comes to me and Julia." He chuckled, opening the door and letting me in. I shivered, hesitating before I stepped in, flattening my skirt. I had no idea what to expect- Grandmother never let me go to any parties.

I'd told myself I'd block out thinking about Mum and Dad- at least for the night. I didn't want to ruin John's fun. Or seem like a bloody nut in front of Julia.

"It's my ickle birthday boy!" Julia squealed, running up to him and hugging him, kissing him on the cheek so it left a red mark. I backed off, smiling in a visibly fake manner, trying to find someone I knew. Getting away from her was first on my agenda.

After awhile, I had found Paul, with that George kid I'd met in J&M Books. "Ah, Heather- I didn't think you'd show up!"

He patted my shoulder, and George stared at me silently. "Hello, George." I greeted him awkwardly. He shoved his hands in his jacket's pockets and smiled at me, his cheeks turning red as they had before.

"Hi," He mumbled.  
Paul glanced at him, raising an eyebrow then turning back to me. "I thought I'd bring him along- get him into the Quarrymen, y'know, with Colin and Len and all."

I nodded in agreement. They could use some people. "What do you play, then?"

He jumped a little. "Oh.. Guitar, I s'pose." George replied, staring down at his feet.

My cousin nudged him irritatedly. "Hey, George, you're never this quiet. What's your problem?"  
George shifted, glanced at Paul, then grinned at me. "I can't really help it when I'm in front of girls." He said- barely audibly.

I was a trifle flustered, and quite flattered. Paul just looked increasingly angrier by the second. "I'm her cousin, mate, practically her brother!"

He flinched, and I noticed he had taken his hands out of his pockets and had begun flexing them. "Back off, Paul, will you?" Paul rubbed his arm guiltily, gazing at me. "He's just trying to be nice."

"Yes..." George seemed as if he were about to say something else, but he trailed off. "Heather, we haven't really gotten to know each other, how do you say to maybe.. Going out somewh-"

"There you are!" John shouted, wrapping his arm around my shoulder and planting a kiss on my lips. I laughed. "Ey, Paulie, who's this?"

I glanced over at George. He was staring at John now. What the fuck? Paul elbowed him sharply, whispering something like 'this is your fucking chance' in his ear. "G-George Harrison. I do guitar."

John snorted. "Paul, he's a kid. What's he doing at my party?" George furrowed his brows, clenching his teeth.

"I thought I'd bring him along, y'know, he can play real well, maybe we could let him in the band?" He tousled his hair, trying to seem nonchalant though it was clear he was nervous.

The arm around my shoulders shifted to my waist, and I glanced self-consciously at George, who was eyeing me subtly. "He's got to impress me first." John steered me away from the small group, keeping a tight grip on me. "Let's get some drinks, yeah?"

I smiled weakly. "Sorry John, I don't really want to drink..." He frowned.

"Come 'ead, it's my birthday, for fuck's sake!" John yelled.

"I just don't want-"

John looked furious. "Why, so you can go hang out with that little bloke?" He snapped and I pulled out of his grasp.

"No, I'm not in the mood for any bloody drinks, and I'm not in the mood for you or any of your fucking friends!" I shouted, shoving him away from me and storming out of the house, pushing through crowds of people as my stomach clenched and tears threatened to spill from my eyes.

Mere seconds passed before my blissful solitude was interrupted by the door opening and slamming. I whirled around angrily, expecting John, only to meet eyes with George.

He opened his mouth, freezing. "Erm... Heather, a-are you okay?" The dark haired boy stressed. "Paul and I saw what happened."

"Yeah, no fuckin' wonder!" I shouted. "I'm bloody fine, just leave me alone." I turned back around, sitting on the bench in Julia's front yard.

He didn't go back inside. Instead, the bench creaked and George sat down beside me. "We're- me and Paul- worried about you-"

"Then why isn't he out here?"  
"He told me to come out. He's dealing with John." George said quickly. I highly doubted that.

I scoffed and crossed my arms, staring at the street ahead of us. This was all Julia's fault, I thought, watching a car pass by. "I don't care, just go back inside."

I felt his clammy hand touch my arm. "Let me help you, Heather. You can't hide yourself from everyone all the time."

He was seeing through me, even though he didn't know. Looking back at him, he had no idea what he was doing. Who he was talking to. "You don't even bloody know me. We've spoken two times. Fuck off." I spat, and yet again, I was alarmed by my sudden anger. I was becoming a very angry, spiteful girl, and there was nothing I could do to help it.

But unlike John, George didn't necessarily back off, and I hated him for it. I wanted to return to my lonely life with Grandmother, only so that I could be alone and never bothered- except for when she would nag me. "Well- I haven't really anywhere to go. I don't know anyone inside... But I know you, at least." He laughed with a nervous undertone.

I wanted to shove his lanky ass off the bench and leave. But that was rude. "Great." I hissed. Still, I didn't need to be so nasty with him. He wasn't doing anything wrong.

"Look, I'm sorry I'm not really what you're looking for. I know I'm not the best looking, and I'm younger than you..." George trailed off, saying the most I'd ever heard from him before.

"Um.. George." I had no idea what he was talking about. "What?"

He became rigid beside me, clenching his hands together. "Well- I, erm, was just thinking, how you and er, John- you're all... Y'know, and I'm just saying that- uh," The younger boy stammered before sighing. "Forget it."  
I flopped against the bench, looking up at the night sky to find the stars slightly obstructed by the city lights beaming down onto the street. I could still make out a few constellations, though. "You see that?" I asked him, trying to change the subject as I pointed at a small group of stars that slightly resembled a house. "That's Cepheus, my favourite constellation."

"Really?" George murmured. "I like Orion the Hunter."

"My father would take my sister and I out to the countryside sometimes to go stargazing." I smiled, looking up to the stars and wondering if he and Mum were looking down upon me. And if they were frowning, unhappy with my defiance to Grandmother.

Our breath billowed in front of us, the temperature gradually dropping the longer we sat outside. "I wish he were still around," I decided to say. I wasn't sure why, but I felt like I could trust George, as if he were someone I had known for ages.

He paused. "Y-your dad?"

I nodded, not saying another word.

"Oh. I'm sorry- Heather," George murmured, placing his hand on top of mine so I turned and he could look me in the eye. "I'm very sure your father loved you very much- and that if he could have, he would have spent every last second he could with you. Just remember that, okay?"

With my free hand, I clutched my heart, suddenly getting stricken with a soul wrenching ache- but a slight relief. I had never been shown this approach to Mum and Dad's death- and George didn't even know the slight of it. He had no idea, though he had just helped me more than Grandmother- Alice- John- or Paul had even, ever, in the eight years that Mum and Dad had been dead.

I sighed, staring at his feet. "Thank you, Geo."

He grinned. "I like that name, Heather. Have you any? That could become our 'thing', if you might."

The urge to laugh came upon me. "They call me Roxanne sometimes," I replied sheepishly. "But I'd rather you call me Heather."

"How come? Roxanne is quite catchy," He chuckled, his hand still clutching onto mine. It was slightly clammy, I noted.

"That's another story for another day," I concluded before quickly changing the subject. "D'you think Paul's dealt with John by now?"

George twisted around to stare at Julia's door. "No, I don't think so. Do you know the way back to Paul's from here? I came with him."

"Yeah, it's not that long of a walk." I muttered, although I wanted to wait around for John and Paul. "Y' want directions?"

I felt him tense up beside me. "Oh... I was thinking- maybe you could go with me?"

"I wanted to wait for John, actually."

"Why?" George asked, smiling, though I was damn sure he knew why I wanted to stay to see how the stuff with John had worked out. He was a kid. How could he know any better to play people, though?

He just had to make it difficult, didn't he? "We're... In a relationship, I suppose."

His plastered-on fake smile stayed on his face, as if he wanted me to say I'd still go with him anyways, like I thought he was oblivious. I knew he wasn't. "Besides," I added. "I'd rather not go walking at night with a boy I barely know."

I got up, my hand leaving his awfully sweaty one, and went to reenter the house.

As I did though, the door swung open and John came storming out, blind to me- and probably George as well, followed by Julia, who made eye contact with me for a second.

George scrambled behind the bench, hiding as Julia trailed John into the street. I, meanwhile, was frozen in place. "John!" She cried, stopping him under a lonesome streetlight. "Johnny, let me talk to you!" Gross.

John spun around, jaw set furiously as he glared at his own mother. I'd never treat Mum this way. If I could ever see her again, I'd- "What now, Mum?" He said it bitterly. I could see Julia's pain.

"I threw this party for you. Jackie and Julie had to go out somewhere with Bobby so they wouldn't be disturbed!" She exclaimed, throwing her arms out. "I did this for you, John, because I love you!"

He was absolutely seething. "Love me? You bloody love me? If you really love, why is Alf gone? Why am I living with Mimi? Where have you been all my life? Why did you try to make me choose?" He yelled, stepping away and clenching his fists. "You're no mother." The cold remark was left hanging in the air.

"I had no choice, I- he- we-" Stammering, quavering words came from Julia's mouth, though I doubt John took any of it at face value.

"You bitch!" He shouted, a silence following as his words rang out along the empty street. Julia stopped before running back towards the house, sobbing. She, yet again, glanced at me as she went back inside, and I felt a trifle guilty- but what was I to do? Let John call me a bitch instead? This was her fight to solve.

I wondered where Paul was as John let out an exasperated shout, running his hands through his hair as he kicked the side of the curb before storming off down the sidewalk, muttering inaudibly.

"Christ," George muttered, getting up from behind the bench and gazing at me. I had forgotten he was there. "Should we get going, then, maybe?" He held out his arm, as if he were desensitized- blind to what had just happened right in front of him.

"No! What the fuck?" I snapped, coming off as more aggressive than I wanted to, before running off to go find John.


	10. Chapter 10

I rushed down the street, glancing around alleyways and sidewalks, trying to find John- somewhere, somehow.

As much as I had a dislike for Julia, he needed to make up with her. It was for both their own good- who knew when she would take her final breath?

The worst that could happen to them was ending on bad terms. I wouldn't wish that upon anyone- no one at all. To know that as you yell and shout at your mother- within hours, she'll be dead.

Prickles ran down my spine as the thought passed. I had to do this for John.

A few minutes of me running through the streets before I saw a broad figure walking down the sidewalk at a brisk pace. "Hey!" I called after him, and he turned.

John, hunched over with a measly cigarette hanging from his lips, his eyes sagging. "I've gone and fucked it all up, haven't I?"

"It's okay, John. I know Julia loves you boundlessly and that she would spend every last second she could with you if she could. Remember that." I ran a hand down his cheek, and felt a small tear roll onto the back of my knuckles.

"You needn't cry. She'll never stop loving you." I patted his back, watching the cig fall from his mouth to simply smoulder on the sidewalk as he let out quiet sobs, latching himself around my neck.

A small prick reminded me of Mum. Then, another for Dad, then Alice, then just about everyone else I'd done wrong in my life, before I realized it was raining, which was typical for the season but added a sort of mood- one that showered down on the two of us from above.

John was still clutching onto me, letting the last of his cries out before just standing there, his head buried in my shoulder.

"It's never too late to get her back." I muttered, not knowing what else to say. "Even though you haven't even lost her."

He would never know the loss I felt. Julia- and Alf, as far as we knew, were still alive. There was still some chance he could see them again.

Me?

For me; every day was a repeat of the same nightmare. Not the frightening, exhilarating nightmare where you're, say, chased by something. No. Mine was the terrifying thought of being alone. Being along forever, stuck in an empty room with no light and no love.

I would never see Mum or Dad again. They were faint whispers in the constant murmur that was my consciousness, always buzzing in my ear, a reminder of who I was and all that is missing in my life.

A faint sigh let out my frustrations as I grasped onto John. "You can still go find her, John. It's not like she would leave your party. She had done that for you."

His head lifted from my shoulder. It felt a tad damp. "You're right, Roxanne," He whispered. "Thank you. I- I have to go. I'm sorry."

He ran off, back towards Julia's home to solve his own problems, leaving me alone under the beaming streetlight. My inner sorrows and demons swirled around in my head, a sick concoction of all that had gone wrong in my life, threatening to boil over. That was my problem.

Ever since I had met John, a monologue carried on inside my head, a reminder that I would never see Mum or Dad- or Alice, now, ever again. I was truly alone in this world.

My throat clogged for a moment before I let out a sob, backing against the brick wall and sliding to the pavement as I cried softly.

"Erm- Heather? Are you okay?" George's voice rang out from farther down the street.

I looked up to see him rushing over to me. "What're you doing here?"

He scratched the back of his head, smiling nervously as he crouched down to my level. His teeth were glinting in the yellow light. "Oh, I- I decided to follow you, I thought you were going home, so then I could find my way back to mine."

His hand reached out for my arm. I slung it away, wiping my eye, which most likely had smeared my makeup. "Why the hell would you follow me? Bloody little wanker."

George froze, and I covered my mouth. "George- I'm sorry- I didn't mean to-" I stammered, grabbing his forearm.

"It's okay." He muttered, shaking off my grasp getting up. "I- I knew I was too young. I don't know why I bothered..." He backed away, turning and running off.

I scrambled up, brushing dust off my skirt. "Where do you think you're going? That's not the way back to Julia's!" I yelled after him, chasing the stupid, naïve boy.

He wasn't easy to catch up to, but I had done it pretty quickly either way. "Wait," I snatched his sleeve again. "George, I'm sorry- I've been fed up recently."

The boy spun around his hair whipping around in the wind. "I just wanted to make sure you were okay!" He cried.

"I- I'm alright. Just calm down, will you?" I awkwardly placed a hand on his shoulder. His eyes darted down to it.

"I didn't mean to make you mad," He replied softly after a short hesitation. "I was concerned."

I took a short breath. "Fine. Great. Wait here. I'll get you home, alright?"

George gazed at me sadly. "What about John?"

"He's got his own problems. Come along, you can call your parents at my house." I tugged him along, not knowing why I called it 'my house'.

~ ~ ~

"They said they'd send Peter to come get me." George reported, setting down the receiver. Elaine was in the front room, smoking with Mimi.

"Peter?" I asked.

"My brother." He murmured, staring at the floor.

I stood for a second, glancing to where Mimi was. That would be rather uncomfortable sitting there with George- besides, Mimi would be asking me where John was. I knew she still didn't trust Julia completely- even though they were sisters. I didn't want to get that way with Alice. "Fancy seeing my room?"

George nodded quickly, following me up the stairs.

"This is it, I suppose." I murmured, opening the door. He stepped in, glancing around. He had this wide grin on his face- it was classic.

"Nice place," He nodded slowly, trying to act casual. He wasn't a very good actor.

And within a few minutes, he was flipping through one of my sketchbooks, and I was sitting on my windowsill and staring out at the sky.

"So, how do you know Elaine?" George asked me after awhile.

I stopped for a second, glanced at him, then smiled. "That's too long of a story. Your brother will be here soon."

He returned my smile. "You don't talk much about yourself, do you?" The sketchbook was closed gingerly. "I wish you would, Heather. I wish you wouldn't hide yourself as much."

We held eye contact for a minute or two; before the doorbell rang. "That must be Peter," He concluded, sliding off my bed. "Thank you."

I followed him downstairs to find a boy who looked somewhat like George, but was a little stockier and taller at the door. So this was Peter. "Cheers," He grinned as George slipped his shoes on. "So you're Paul's cousin?" I nodded. "I can see the resemblance."

George stepped outside, giving me a short wave. "Bye, Heather."

I smiled, waited for them to get out the gate, then closed the door.

"He seemed like a well behaved lad," Mimi commented.

A large crashing noise came from next door.

"Bloody hell, that must be John." Mimi sighed then got up, rushing towards the door. "I tell him every time, Julia's only going to hurt him, and look what happens when he doesn't listen to me."

Elaine got me to follow her, and we had reached the inside to find John sitting in front of an upturned table, crying.

I felt awful for telling him to go back to Julia- this was all my fault.

It was an awful sight, seeing him sitting there so sadly, the most despair I had seen in recent times.

John was so much like me.

"John- are you alright?" Mimi placed a hand on his shoulder.

I was expecting a 'does it look like I am?' Or a 'what do you think?' But all he gave Mimi was a slow, sad, shake of his head. My stomach melted and my heart surged with an empathetic sorrow. I sat down beside him, pulling him into a hug.

"I'm sorry." I murmured, stroking his head. "I wanted to give you a good birthday. I could've helped you, but I just hurt you more."

He gasped between sobs, holding onto my hand.

Mimi leant over worriedly. I waved her off, mouthing 'I've got this'. If anyone could comfort John, it was me. If anyone had to, it especially was me. This was all my doing.

She and Elaine backed off, heading to the kitchen.

"I just want a mum who loves me," John sniffled. "It's all I've ever needed."

"What about Mimi?"

He paused, then whispered. "She's not a mum."

I nodded softly, pulling him closer to me. "Aunts.. Grandmums.. They're not mums, are they?"

John sighed softly, his hysterics slowing down. "I'm sorry, Roxanne."

"Don't be." I patted his back. "Come on, let's get this table back.

He sniffled then let go of me, and together we pulled the table back up.

Just then, the front door opened. Who the fuck could it be now?

John wiped his face then froze immediately, and I stepped to the side to see who it was. Julia, with her little purse and tearful expression.

There was a split second before John ran away and up the stairs, shouting something I couldn't make out. "For fuck's sake!" I yelled at her. "I had just gotten him to stop crying, and you come over here? Piss off, you've done enough!"

Elaine and Mimi had come over to the door. "Julia!" Mimi hissed. "Just why have you felt the need to show up at my home?"

I glared at Julia for another moment before heading up the stairs, just as John slammed the door to his room.

I tried the knob to find he had locked it typical.

"Come on, John. Open it up." I eased, knocking lightly.

Silence.

My feet slowly gave out and I slid to the floor, sighing. "John, it's me."

"I don't care." His voice came from fairly close to the door- I supposed he was sitting in front of it.

A loud burst of shouting came from downstairs- Mimi and Julia- though I couldn't make out what was being said.

"God damnit, this is all my fault!" John exclaimed and got up.

He flipped another thing over. I groaned and stood, fiddling with the doorknob again. "Hey- it's not- let me in!" I pulled two pins out of my hair, jamming them into the lock. Alice had taught me this. I fiddled with them until I heard a click, then opened the door to find John smashing his guitar.

"For fuck's sake!" I pulled the remains from his hands and slapped him. "Calm down, will you?"

He gazed at me for a moment then stared down at the pieces of wood chips littering his floor. "Wh- what have I done?"

"You broke your fucking guitar. Great job, John. You let your emotions get the better of you." I was seething. "Go. Sit on your bed and don't move."

John complied, sitting cross-legged, repeatedly running his hands through his hair, murmuring under his breath and only pausing to watch me pick up the shards of his instrument.

"We'll go get a new one." I told him. Finally, my money from Jack was finally getting put into use. "I can take you tomorrow."

He jumped up, pulling me into a tight hug. "Oh, Roxanne, thank you! Thank you so much. I thought I was done there- there was no way Mimi would buy me another guitar." His arms were wrapped tightly around my back, squeezing me.

"Your birthday was ruined because of me- it's the best I can do." I reassured him, thought it was mostly me reassuring myself.

Another burst of yelling came from downstairs.

I felt his fingers digging into my spine and sighed, patting his head.

~ ~ ~

I clutched the two hundred-pound notes in my pocket nervously as John darted all over the music shop, plucking every guitar and running his fingers along it.

"Which one d'you think I should get, Roxanne?" He asked, looking at me.

Shrugging, I glanced around the shop. "I don't know. Make your own decision."

We spent awhile in there- maybe an hour, maybe more. I was patient.

"I really fancy this one," John said, studying a red acoustic.

"Then get it," I murmured, sitting down on a seat near the door.

He gazed around the store again. "I don't know... What if I've missed one?"

"I doubt you have, you've scaled the whole place three times over."

John pressed his lips together before pulling the acoustic down. "This one okay with you, love?"

I shrugged. I hadn't the slightest idea about nearly anything with guitars.

"Alright. Gear. Cool." He carried it to the counter and placed it down gingerly. I handed him the cash and we quickly paid for it. I had about £90 in change.

"Is that it?" I asked.

He nodded enthusiastically. "Let's get home, I want to try this thing out."

~ ~ ~

"Pass me a pen, will you?"

I stared out the window, watching the trees shudder along with the wind- something was blowing in. Something unpleasant, I supposed. That wasn't exactly the best, seeing as how close to Christmas it was. Meanwhile, at home in Bristol, Grandmother would be toting her little 'Happy Christmas' jumpers like she was a regular citizen, like she had nothing to hide, no runaway granddaughter. No, she had never failed to raise anyone improperly.

"A pen, Roxanne."

"O-oh. Sorry." I gave John a ballpoint that had been sitting on his desk.

"You've been really out of it again," He pointed out. "Something the matter?"

I shook my head, deciding not to confide in him. Thankfully, I hadn't slipped up to George as I had as much with John, he didn't know the slightest. Unless Paul told him.

"You haven't been speaking much."

"Have I?" I asked. I didn't really notice. "I couldn't tell."

He grunted, placing the ballpoint back on the table beside me. "Is it something with Bristol? ... Your parents?"

I sighed. "You needn't play some guessing game, John. It's just my grandmother. And my sister. Oh God, I haven't spoken to her in months." I exclaimed, coming to the sudden realization.

"So?"

I ran a hand through my hair. "So- I promised I'd telephone her every day!"

"You should phone her."

John was staring at me, shifting a little. I groaned and got up, dialling Alice's number on his telephone.

It rang.

Then rang twice more.

The fourth ring passed with no answer, leaving me to listen to the empty tone of the telephone.

I dropped the receiver. "She won't pick up. She always did back in July."

He rolled his eyes, making me feel a tad self conscious. "Try again."

Four more rings passed and I sighed, placing the phone back on its base lightly.

John pressed his lips together, glancing at me. "Maybe she's at work?"

"It's Saturday, John." I snapped, making the words come out harsher than I had intended. Or, maybe I had. I didn't even know anymore. These angry outbursts kept getting more and more frequent. And I had no idea what would keep me in check.

"Well, excuse me." He shot back, closing the library book he had been writing in. "I'm sorry that I was trying to help."

He stood up, brushing off his trousers before walking out.

I groaned and threw a paper to the floor. It's not like he was going anywhere, though- this was his house.

Rain pattered on the windowsill, and I sighed, watching a car pass by again.

Within a few minutes, there was a light knock on the door. John, holding two plates. "Erm, hi." He set one down in front of me. There was a sandwich and some kind of pastry. "I, ah, brought you food."

"I can see." I droned, then forced a smile, as to not make him- or me- mad again.

He took a bite of his own sandwich, grinning at me.

"Thanks." Picking up the pastry, I finally figured out it was some kind tart that Elaine had been making the day beforehand.

She'd been coming home from work later, I had noticed. Probably even two or three hours later than usual. I hadn't any clue why, and it stressed me out, as I can't stand not knowing why something is happening. Or has happened, like my parents dying.

I shuddered. It kept coming to mind- I had no way to forget it.

"I'm just thinking-" John muttered after a little bit. "What exactly are we?"

Glancing at him, confused, I shrugged. Since he was making no sense, I didn't speak.

He sighed a little and clasped his hands together. "Like- us, together. What are we?"

I stared at the floor. "Uh.. I don't know, John." Nervously, I spun the ballpoint pen around in my hands. "...What do you think?"

"I think we're an item, y' get what I'm saying?" He half asked, bobbling his head around.

I nodded. "Yes, that sounds about right."

His grin grew a little bit larger. "I'm glad. 'Cause honestly Roxanne- we really do make a great pair, y'know?" John stepped over and hugged me tightly.

I smiled softly, wrapping my arms around his back as the trees continued swaying outside.


End file.
